Saving Laurens
by iColor With Crayons
Summary: John Laurens' father is captured by the British. In an act of valor, John offers to take his father's place. Alexander does not find out about this deal until John is gone. He immediately makes it his mission to remove John Laurens from the clutches of the British. Unapologetic Lams. Co-written with What'dIMiss.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, friends! I have not forgotten about my other fics (it's impossible to forget about my other fics), but I just wrapped up an RP with my good friend What'dIMiss (who you should all be following) and was too excited to wait to post it!**

 **As might be evident stylistically, I wrote all of Alexander's parts, while What'dIMiss wrote all of John's parts. I think it flowed together rather nicely, myself.**

 **Enjoy!**

Chapter One

"Your Excellency," Alexander Hamilton bowed graciously when he entered General Washington's tent. Marquis de Lafayette was already present, staring at a map on the General's desk. McHenry was tidying up the quarters. Martha Washington - the General's wife - was preparing dinner. Martha Washington always prepared dinner for the aides when she visited the camp. There was only one person missing. "Where's Laurens?"

The General and Lafayette exchanged uncomfortable glances. McHenry avoided Alexander's eyes. Martha stepped forward with a gracious smile.

"Alexander, why don't you have some dinner? I've just finished roasting some game hens." She suggested, gesturing to the makeshift fire just outside of the tent. It did smell good. Alexander allowed his eyes to stray in the direction of the fire for just a moment before smiling at Martha Washington ruefully.

"Thank you, Mrs. Washington." He looked at Washington in askance. "Your Excellency, sir, where is John Laurens?"

Washington sighed, hanging his head for a moment before meeting Alexander's eyes. "Hamilton, my boy, I think that we had better talk outside."

"Yes, sir." Alexander agreed, his eyebrow furrowing together in confusion. He followed Washington out of the tent, ignoring the strange looks that he was receiving from everyone else in the tent.

"Laurens isn't at camp anymore," Washington explained as they neared the woods surrounding camp, where no one could hear them. "He's…well, he's on his way to England."

"England?" Alexander didn't bother hiding his surprise. "But…w-what's he doing there? He was just here yesterday."

"He left at dawn," Washington answered, not meeting Alexander's eyes.

"But why?" Alexander did not miss the petulant tone in his voice. He frowned and tacked on a more respectful "Sir."

"Henry Laurens was captured by a British vessel on his way to Holland. He was going to meet John Adams in the Netherlands to secure a Dutch alliance. He was able to throw the most confidential documents into the water before they fell into British hands, but he could not escape. Secretly - and quite without my permission - John Laurens bartered with the British. He convinced the government that he was a more valuable prisoner than his father, being a direct subordinate of mine. He surrendered himself to the Red Coats across the river before I realized what he was doing. As we speak, he's on his way to England to be held prisoner at the Tower of London." Washington looked down at his boots as he spoke.

"What?" Alexander lost all sense of propriety immediately. "No, sir, he can't do that. They'll kill him. Who's to say that they'll even let his father go?"

"They've already released him," Washington said.

"Still…" Alexander shook his head, feeling extremely shell-shocked. "They'll try to torture him for information. They'll try to make him a spy. We can't let that happen."

"There's nothing that we can do, son."

"Send me to England." Alexander protested. "Or let me meet with one of the officers across the river. Maybe I can negotiate terms of release."

"Out of the question. I have already lost one of my best aides. I cannot risk losing another." Washington said firmly.

"But sir -"

"Hamilton, that's enough." Washington insisted, his voice rising. Alexander knew enough about Washington's temper to know not to press the point further.

"Yes, sir." With some difficulty, he lowered his head in a gesture of respect.

"Now," Washington disliked losing his temper with his aides. He used an overly friendly tone to compensate for just about yelling at Alexander. "Come inside. Martha's prepared dinner for us all. I'm sure that you're starving after a long day of surveying the landscape."

"Actually, sir, I think that I'll just have my rations tonight. I'm not very hungry." Alexander couldn't keep the tone of resentment out of his voice. "Goodnight, your Excellency."

"Goodnight, Hamilton." Washington looked at Alexander warily but walked towards his own tent without an additional word. He trusted Alexander to follow his orders. After all, Alexander was typically as obedient as any servant could be. But that was about to change. This was the one time that Alexander would prove himself to be just as rebellious as the war that they were fighting in.

The situation was as follows: John Laurens was now a prisoner of King George III. Alexander Hamilton, meanwhile, was a prisoner of John Laurens. More or less. They were in love. They'd been in love from the first day that Laurens had joined Washington's staff. He'd walked into Alexander's quarters by mistake. Alexander had taken one look into his baby blue eyes at that had been that.

Naturally, the two men had kept their romance hidden from the world. It was 1777 and homosexuality was not only a sin - it was a crime. Unless Alexander wanted to be deported to the island from whence he came, he would be smart about his relationship with Laurens. No one could know; especially not General Washington.

Now that Laurens was missing, though, the rules had changed. Alexander could not sit around camp, knowing that Laurens was being tortured for information about Washington's army. He had to do something. If that meant disobeying General Washington's orders, so be it.

* * *

John paced back and forth in his cell on the British ship that was transporting him to London. He had earned his way in there after he'd had a scuffle with a few guards upon arriving onboard. They were being too rough with him. He only let one person touch him, and that was Alexander.

Alexander Hamilton. The love of John's life. He missed him terribly, and felt guilty about leaving without warning, but he knew Alex would try to stop him, and he didn't want to be stopped. He longed to once again gaze into Alex's bright green eyes. Alas, he was back at the camp in America, and John was on this small British ship being sent to the Tower of London.

He was lucky to be on such a ship. Normal war prisoners had to sit in the large, cramped decks of enormous freighters, surrounded by disease and filth.

John, on the other hand, was not an ordinary prisoner. He was a political one. He'd bargained with the British to take him in his father, ambassador Henry Laurens' place. As an aide-de-campe of General Washington, John was much more valuable, so he told them.

A short, young-looking British soldier now marched past him, all seriousness. He was almost cute, the way his brown hair stuck out of his tall helmet. John snickered.

"Aw...you're such a cute little guy! I bet you write to your mother every day." John said in a condescending voice.

The guard stopped, turned and walked back to the door of John's cell. "Don't speak to me that way, you piece of American scum."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? My bad."

The guard's face started to get red. "No."

John laughed more."What's your name, kid?"

"E-Eddy." The guard said quietly.

"Well, Eddy, I hope your mother is proud that you're fighting for a misguided government who thinks America belongs to them when It doesn't."

"I've never fought anyone."

"Then good for you."

Eddy slowly walked away from the cell. John went back to pacing.

"All hands on deck!" The captain yelled.

"I see London!" Someone else called.

"Great, we're here." Thought John.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It was Lafayette's night to sit guard. The perfect night for Alexander to escape.

Alexander waited for the camp to become the sleepy little ghost town that it morphed into between two and three in the morning every night when the wine ran dry and Washington snapped at enough soldiers to discourage any further fraternization. Once quiet fell over the camp, Alexander crept out of his small tent, slinging his makeshift knapsack over his shoulder as he approached his horse, Dew. Dew let out a nervous whinny before recognizing Alexander's scent.

"Easy, there," Alexander whispered, running a hand over Dew's flank before feeling for his bridle and saddle in the dark. Upon finding these things, he quickly saddled Dew and hoisted himself up on the horse with as little noise as possible. After doing so, he sat on the horse quietly, listening for anyone who might have been disrupted by his noise. He heard only the crackling of a dying fire.

Bolded by his success thus far, Alexander nudged Dew's ribs. The horse sprang forward, his hoofs making a distinct and loud noise against the frozen earth. Still, no one stirred. No one, that was, aside from the nervous Frenchman lying at the gate to the camp.

"Who's there?" Lafayette whispered frantically. "What's the passcode?"

"Do I need a passcode if I'm leaving the premises?" Alexander whispered back playfully.

"Hamilton!" Lafayette breathed in relief. "What are you doing up at this hour? If the General hears you -"

"He won't," Alexander assured Lafayette firmly. "Because you won't tell him about this until I'm long gone."

"What are you talking about?" Lafayette was suspicious now. "You couldn't be deserting…?"

"Never," Alexander said. "But I am leaving. I'm going to find the Redcoats across the river and ask them to negotiate for Laurens' release. We cannot let him be subject to torture in the Tower of London. Barring the inhumanity of it all - a difficult thing to do, mind you - he could give away critical information that could jeopardize the freedom of this country."

"The General told you not to." Lafayette reminded him.

"I respectfully decline to agree with the General's decision," Alexander remarked. "Now, will you let me pass, or will you wake the entire camp just to follow the General's loose orders?"

Lafayette was quiet for a moment, considering his options.

"Go." He finally said, quietly. "But I will tell the General tomorrow."

"You could tell him that I snuck past you through the woods," Alexander suggested. "Then he wouldn't blame you at all."

"I cannot lie to the General." Lafayette insisted stubbornly.

"He'll likely thrash you," Alexander warned him.

"I know." Lafayette agreed. "But I cannot lie to the General."

"Understood." Alexander admired Lafayette's dedication to Washington, even if he himself felt no such dedication. "I'll keep you in my prayers, sir."

"And you, Monsieur Hamilton," Lafayette said, his voice barely a whisper. "Godspeed."

Alexander did not wait for any further encouragement. He had already put himself at considerable risk in engaging in such a long conversation with Lafayette. He nudged Dew on and rode into the forest, looking ahead at the river he would have to cross to the Redcoats.

It was about an hour's ride. He used the moon to guide the way. Owls hooted their warning. Foxes and raccoons scuttled out of the way, not wanting to get caught up in Alexander's fool's errand. Even Dew nickered from time to time, as though protesting the entire journey. Alexander ignored all of the signs telling him to turn around. He was already perfectly aware of the amount of risk that was waiting ahead. The likelihood of him surviving the adventure was slim to none, but he was willing to risk worse odds still for John Laurens. Laurens would have risked it for him.

When he reached the enemy camp, the soldier guarding the camp leaped to attention.

"Attack! Attack! Sir, we're under attack!"

"I come in peace." Alexander protested, struggling to be heard over the frantic soldier's shouts. He was young, sixteen at most. At twenty-three, Alexander must have seemed like a formidable threat to this young man. "I've come to negotiate with your highest-ranking form of authority."

"Leo, what is the meaning of this?" A groggy officer materialized behind the young man. He then looked at Alexander, surveying his ragged uniform. "Who is this?"

"A rebel, sir." The boy, Leo, answered, clamoring for his gun.

Alexander held his hands up but didn't flinch back. He turned to look at the officer as he spoke. "Sir, I have come to negotiate an exchange; myself for a current prisoner in the Tower."

The officer groaned. "Another one?"

"Sir, the last prisoner that you accepted was a mistake. I'm much more valuable than -"

"I've heard enough." The officer sighed, yawning. "Leo, tie him up. We'll execute him in the morning."

"What?" Alexander's eyes widened with surprise. "But sir -"

The officer yawned and walk away. Leo, meanwhile, sprang into action. With shaky hands, he pulled his musket out of the sling on his back and struggled to point it at Alexander. Fortunately, Alexander was much better trained than Leo seemed to be. He pulled a pistol from the bag slung over his shoulder and fired it immediately. It struck Leo square in the chest. The boy dropped his musket and clutched his chest, blood beginning to seep out from between his fingers.

The officer whipped around at the sound of a pistol being fired. "Men!"

Alexander had overstayed his welcome. He turned and bolted for the forest, where Dew was patiently waiting for him. Behind him, he heard men yelling and shots being fired. Bullets whistled around him. Trees groaned as bullets scraped their bark clean off.

Alexander reached Dew, in the clearing. The horse whinnied and stomped anxiously as the shouting and firing got closer. Alexander placed one foot in the stirrup and launched himself up. In one swift motion, he landed atop Dew and kicked his sides, urging him forward. Dew surged forward obediently, galloping off away from the British camp.

It looked like they were going to make it for a moment.

But then, just as they reached the river necessary to cross to return to camp, Dew shrieked and bolted to the side. He began leaning to the side. No, not leaning - falling. Dew was falling. He'd been shot.

Alexander did not have the time to comprehend what was happening. He tumbled onto the frozen dirt, trying his best to avoid hitting his head. He didn't have time to recover. He caught a glimpse of poor Dew, writhing in agony and covered in blood, before wiping blood - possibly his own, possibly Dew's - off of his lower lip and diving into the river himself.

That was a mistake. That was a massive mistake.

The current swept him downstream, away from the sanctuary of camp. Away from the protection of George Washington. His heart pounded as he struggled to keep his head above water.

British soldiers were no longer Alexander Hamilton's biggest problem.

* * *

The shifting bodies and accented voices above, plus the sudden lurch of the ship, told John they had reached the port. Two guards, dressed the same as Eddy had been, came down to unlock the cell, bind his hands, and escort John to the top deck.

One of them John had punched in the face. He still had a bit of a bruise. John smirked at him. He death-glared back.

John wondered if he'd see Eddy as he was led up. He wasn't sure why. Eddy was just another guard he'd tormented. Nothing more.

Eddy was, in fact, standing at attention on the gangway leading down to the edge of the port. He made short eye contact with John as he was led off. John gave him some form of a smile.

The guards led John to a waiting carriage which transported them to the Tower of London.

Once they reached it, John surveyed the exterior of the prison he'd no doubt occupy for a long while. "Nice place you got here, fellas."

The guard he'd punched rolled his eyes. "Only the best for rebel trash like yourself," He muttered.

"Hey, buddy, I'm not trash."

"My name's not buddy. It's Reginald."

John stifled a laugh. "That's a nice name."

"Shut up!"

"You redcoats are too sensitive. Lighten up! You're just like Eddy."

"I and Eddy are nothing alike."

"Woah! Geez, sorry. 'Guess I struck a nerve." John laughed a little.

Reginald was infuriated. He took his bayonet and hit John upside the head, knocking him unconscious.

"Reggie! What was that for? He was just talking!" John almost could hear Eddy, who had apparently been nearby, ask worriedly.

"Shut your mouth, Edward. Get back to your post."

Then John truly blanked out. He didn't hear the rest of the argument.

He woke up inside the Tower of London.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Alexander managed to crawl ashore miles from camp. His uniform was caked in mud, his hair was plastered onto his face, and his entire body was trembling with exhaustion. His body protested every step that he took along the shore, but he couldn't lay down and sleep in a strange area. He could have been washed up beside an enemy camp. It was possible that spies were already watching him.

So he struggled onwards. He walked, and walked, and walked, and, you guessed it, walked.

As the sun began to rise, he arrived at what appeared to be a portside down. Boston, perhaps.

He walked as best he could towards the ports - perhaps he would find a vessel setting sail for England there - but ultimately collapsed in front of what appeared to be a tavern. His body refused to move. His throat throbbed with pain that only a gallon of water could soothe. His feet ached. His arms felt like lead.

Citizens walking past the tavern pretended that he doesn't exist, most likely assuming that he was another soldier who drank too much on his leave of absence. Alexander was fairly certain that he would meet his demise in the courtyard of the little tavern; hardly the glorious death that he had imagined for himself when he had joined the Revolution. Just as his eyelids threatened to close forever, a douse of cold water brought Alexander back into the world.

"Up, you." An older woman demanded, her tone stern and her face frowning. Alexander watched her dimly. She was holding a bucket, which appeared to have more water in it. "Are you with the General's troops? Does he know what you're up to, young man?"

"Unh?" Alexander murmured, unable to speak articulately.

The woman sighed and looked off to the side. "Oi, James, how much has this one had?"

"That one?" Alexander heard another man speak. He couldn't see him, though, and he was far too exhausted to move his head to look for him. "Don't recognize the face. I don't think I served him at all."

"Sir?" The woman crouched down and nudged Alexander, her voice becoming concerned. "Sir, are you injured?"

" _Unh_ ," Alexander repeated, trying his best to emphasize the sound.

"James, I think he might be injured. Would you carry him to my parlor, please? Sir, I am going to take care of you." The woman told Alexander as he felt himself being lifted off the ground by what must have been a very strong man.

Alexander didn't remember anything after that.

* * *

"Cozy."

John paced around the perimeter of his cell. It was quite large, housing himself and a few rats. Multiple guards stood at the entrance, not including Eddy or Reggie as far as John could tell by how they were murmuring instead of arguing.

There were bars on the small windows. A crummy-looking bed shoved into a corner. A decent view of the street. John sighed. He was positive he'd be questioned by some snot-nosed, white-wigged official sooner or later about his fellow Americans.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs not too far from him. He heard familiar voices.

"I'm speaking first."

"No, I am."

"You're too weak, Eddy. He gave me a black eye!" Reggie protested.

"He didn't do anything except insult me. He seems ok, for a rebel" Eddy reasoned.

They stopped in front of the cell door. Reginald pulled out a key and unlocked the door. It opened and the two stepped in. "The general wants to see you, Laurens."

"Oh, lovely, right at the time I was planning to go shopping for a new uniform. I'll have to reschedule." John pretended to be irritated.

"Just get your hands behind your back. We want this done quick."

"Fine. Hey, question: Are you two brothers?"

Reginald stopped himself. He glanced at Eddy then back at John. "Of course not. What makes you think that?" He sounded like he was in total denial.

"You don't have to lie, Reggie," Eddy looked at John. "Yes, we're brothers. How'd you figure it out?"

"You two seem to hate each other."

"Oh, we do," Reginald rolled his eyes. "But someone has to keep an eye on him during this war." He gestured to Eddy.

"Have you ever been in a battle?"

"Of course. I've been to America twice, and was in several battles."

"Which ones?"

"I can't remember much ABOUT the battles...they were all very sudden."

"If you ever remember, tell me. We might've been fighting each other on opposite sides at the same battle."

"Yes, I suppose so. Now enough small talk, the general will throw a fit if we don't get there soon." Reginald grabbed John by the wrists and put them behind his back, then tied them with a rope. John now only had Eddy to continue conversing with.

"Have you ever been to America?" John asked Eddy.

"Um, yeah. But I'm just a guard. I never went to battle." Eddy rubbed his arm. "I always thought it was silly anyway. I doubt I'll go back now."

"How is it silly? There are people fighting for their freedom!"

"I know, but I don't understand why we couldn't just… make nice with each other and not fight. Give you guys your freedom and not waste any lives over it. Do you get it?"

John was surprised that this was his opinion. Still, he rolled his eyes. "That would be the boneheadedness of a certain King at work."

"The King is great! It's you rabble-rousing Americans who are in the wrong." Reginald had finished his tying of John's hands.

Eddy took out a pocket watch he was apparently concealing in his uniform. "Oh, wait, we can't take him there now. The general has that meeting."

Reginald groaned. "We'll have to wait then. But I'm not untying him." He eyed John.

"Why'd you even tie him up in the first place?"

"Because I don't need another black eye!"

"Woah, Woah, gentleman, you can fight about me later when you're at the kitchen table. Right now I think it's time to untie me," John cut in and reasoned.

Eddy walked over and began to untie him.

"Edward!" Reginald protested.

"He's perfectly fine to stay here without being cuffed. Let's just go. We can come back for him later. It's not like he can go anywhere," Eddy stated.

Reginald folded his arms."Whatever."

Eddy smiled. He finished untying John and made sure he didn't move at all. He grabbed Reginald by the hand and led him out. Reginald kept his eyes trained on John, but John didn't move. He just smirked.

Then as the door slid shut, locking itself, the two Redcoat brothers walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Alexander woke up with a start in a strange place, surrounded by strange people. There was a little girl, hardly much older than the decrepit coat on Alexander's back, there was a boy who looked to be about the age of twelve, and there was a woman that Alexander recognized as the woman who had thrown water at him some indefinite amount of time ago.

"You," He rasped, trying to struggle into an upright position. His limbs throbbed in protest. He winced and resisted their pleas to lie down once more. "Who are you? Why have you taken me here?"

"Fetch Isabella," The woman told the little boy sternly.

"But Mama!" The boy protested, not taking his eyes off of Alexander.

"Now!" The woman insisted shrilly. Her tone forced Alexander to wince yet again. As the boy took off running down the hall, the sound of his feet pattering against the wooden floors echoing through the abode, the woman turned to look at Alexander. Her expression became somewhat soft. "There you are, young man. We thought we'd have to bury you if you took much longer waking up. Now, then, what's your name? Are you with the General's forces? I know he's been 'round here recently."

"Hamilton, miss." Alexander rubbed his aching head. "My name is Hamilton."

"Well, Master Hamilton, where is it that you ought to be?"

"An interesting question, to be sure," The hoarse sound of Alexander's voice caused his words to lose their humor. "I am going to London. The General's orders. I am to negotiate a prisoner exchange."

"Ma'am?" The little boy returned with a woman wearing a tattered dress appeared in the doorway. Alexander looked her over critically for a moment before deciding that she was not a slave. Her skin was far lighter than his, and though she was dressed poorly, the little girl and little boy were sporting clothes that were only a few tears away from rags as well.

"Yes, Isabella, thank you," The woman regained her composure. "Master Hamilton has just risen and requires bread and water. Would you be so kind as to fetch those things while I determine where he should be?"

"Yes, ma'am." The woman, Isabella, agreed quickly. She scampered out of the room, her feet making the same pattering noise that the boy's had just moments ago.

"Thank you, miss, but I really should leave. I have to arrive in London by a very specific time, you see, and -" Alexander frowned as he looked around the house for any sign of a door from which he could leave.

"Of course," The woman, blessedly, did not try to deter Alexander from carrying out his journey. "Thomas. Fetch Mister Hancock."

"But Mama," The little boy, Thomas, protested again.

"I will not ask you again, Thomas." The woman said sternly.

With a pout, little Thomas placed a ragged cap upon his head, tattered shoes upon his feet, and slunk out of the room. In his absence, the woman turned to look at Alexander, an almost warm expression on her face.

"My youngest boy, Thomas. All the others are off fightin' the war, just like ye. Isabella is married to my eldest, Benjamin. He's not with the General's troops, like I would have liked, but he's under the command of a man named Montgomery and says that he's a proud and noble man, just as good as the General."

Alexander nodded, not particularly interested in hearing about this woman's family.

"Do you have any children, sir? Or a wife?" The woman did not seem to notice Alexander's disinterest.

"No, ma'am. I'm afraid that I don't." Alexander answered. It was a question he received fairly often. After all, he was a young man of some fortune in a very uncertain time. It seemed perfectly natural that he should begin to seek a wife. But John Laurens defied all logic. He threw a wrench in a part of Alexander's life that should have been automatic, like clockwork. He made that part of Alexander's part much more chaotic. Much more enjoyable.

"Well, don't you worry. You're still young, yet. Now, my Thomas will only be a minute. He's fetching Mr. John Hancock. He has a ship that has just come to harbor from France. He brings goods that are forbidden by the British. He might be able to take you along on his next journey. I'm afraid no one else around here dares even approach England. We're all terribly afraid of what might happen, sir."

"That's alright. I suppose I could just as easily charter a boat from France as I could anywhere else," Alexander acted as though he were not being given a huge opportunity in this woman's connection with one John Hancock.

The woman nodded. "Thomas should return with him at any moment."

"I'm glad of it," Alexander remarked. "And I appreciate the efforts your family is making on my behalf."

"Anything for the cause, Mr. Hamilton."

Alexander smiled weakly.

"Mrs. Coates? Your son has fetched me. Is something the matter?" A well-dressed man, tall and dark-haired, walked into the room. His thick eyebrows were furrowed with confusion.

"Mr. Hancock," The woman stood up and smiled at the man gravely. "I present to you, Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton has been deterred on his journey to England."

"England?" The man, Mr. Hancock, looked at Alexander with newfound suspicion.

"For the patriot cause, sir," Alexander interjected, eying the woman, apparently Mrs. Coates, reproachfully. She had made him sound as though he was a redcoat. "The General has requested that I negotiate the terms of release for a prisoner being held in London."

"You're one of Washington's boys?" Mr. Hancock's suspicious expression did not change.

"Yes, sir. I've been his aide for a few years." Alexander struggled to his feet, despite Mrs. Coates' disapproving looks. He stuck his hand out for Mr. Hancock to shake. Mr. Hancock shook it, still suspicious.

"You can vouch for this young man?" Mr. Hancock looked at Mrs. Coates again. "I cannot have a spy disrupting my trade routes. You know firsthand the demand that I face every month. If the redcoats begin to frequent the route, such voyages will no longer be sustainable."

"Sir," Alexander didn't trust Mrs. Coates to speak on his behalf. "If I may, I am not asking to see the route that you travel. I have no experience with sailing. In fact, I can almost guarantee that I will stay below deck for the duration of the journey. My interests lie otherwise, you see. I will mostly be reading and writing. You will hardly notice my presence."

Mr. Hancock did not seem appeased. "Do you have money for a fare? An extra man onboard means an extra mouth to feed. An extra body to harbor. One less man on my crew."

"I'm sorry, sir," Alexander's heart sank. "I have no money. I refused to accept payment for my services."

"Now, Mr. Hancock, I know that you have room a'plenty in your ship. Don't extort this young man. He's working for his country." Mrs. Coates protested.

"We're all working for our country, Mrs. Coates," Mr. Hancock said with a patronizing smile. "That doesn't mean that I have to go bankrupt in the process."

"Sir," Alexander respected Mr. Hancock much less for worrying over the cost of a single passenger. "I'm sure that I can write to Mr. John Hancock at the War Board for compensation, if you consider it necessary to receive payment."

"For shame," Mrs. Coates added. "This is your civic duty."

"Are you questioning my patriotism, madam?"

"I am, sir."

"Well, then," Mr. Handcock did not seem very happy with the prospect of taking Alexander to France. "I suppose I haven't a choice, have I? Mr. Hamilton, we depart at dawn tomorrow. If you are late, you will be left. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Alexander grinned. "I will be there at dawn."

* * *

Another pair of guards came an hour later to take John to the general. Neither said a word.

"Wow, aren't you a pair of downers. Do you ever move your lips?" John asked as he was escorted out and down the stairs.

The guards left him in a small room that consisted of a table and two chairs facing each other. John sat himself in one of them and waited. And waited.

The general walked in flanked by two redcoats. He slammed a stack of papers on the table in front of John before taking his seat. His face was stuck in a frown.  
"Hello, Laurens."

"Hello,whoever you are because no one was kind enough to give your name."

"Call me your worst nightmare."

"Hello, my worst nightmare, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm John." He smirked.

The officer sighed in frustration. "Please address me as General McCullough."

"Yeah, that's not doing it for me. Got a first name? Last names are so...formal."

"Charles."

"I know a man named Charles. Great guy, really. 'Cept he's a total coward."

"We are not here to discuss random civilians. We are not here to discuss anything, this is an interrogation-."

"Oh, he's not a normal civilian." John cut him off, smirking.

"I don't care."

"Well, let's get on with it, then, I don't have all day to sit here. I'd much prefer to spend it on the hard stone floor of my cell, thanks for that by the way."

"I don't either, so stop stalling, you filthy rebel."

John put his hand to his chest in mock offense. "My, how original of an insult. I hear it at least once a day, and twice a day on Wednesdays."

"You've only been in England a few days. Just- damn. Guards, take him out of here, do what you will. If he won't tell us what we want to know about the American offense-"

"Woah, you wanted to know about that? I thought this was just a friendly meeting between acquaintances. My mistake, it's clear I'm not welcome. Guards, take me away. I hate to look at Charlie's ugly face any longer."

The two guards looked at each other, shrugged, then pulled John out of his chair, back towards his cell.

Charles put his head on his desk. Americans, he thought, are they all like this?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

True to his word, Alexander was at the dock before the sun was in the sky. He was sitting, his feet dangling over the edge of the dock, when Mr. Hancock approached him.

"Mr. Hamilton," He said, that patronizing smirk of his still playing on his lips. "I see that you have managed to find us. Have you any luggage that needs to be brought aboard?"

"No, sir." Alexander answered. "I'm all that there is."

"Good answer," Mr. Hancock's smile turned just the slightest bit genuine. That was all Alexander needed to smile back broadly. "Well, then. Come aboard, Mr. Hamilton. Welcome to the Liberty."

"The Liberty, sir?" Alexander asked, following Mr. Hancock up the plank and onto a large vessel teeming with busy crewmen. "Don't you think that such a name is a little…conspicuous? If you're traveling European routes to get to French ports, wouldn't you want a name that did not seem obvious to British ships?"

Mr. Hancock laughed. The sound drew the attention of a number of crewmen. He didn't seem to notice. Alexander pretended not to notice, either. He was beginning to realize that Mr. John Hancock was exactly the type of man that he wanted to be. He was wealthy, he was in good social standing among the crème de la crème, and he was a patriot. Without thinking about it, Alexander began to emulate his mannerisms; his patterns of speech, his careless attitude towards his crewmen…everything.

"Mr. Hamilton," Unlike Washington, Mr. Hancock did not hurt Alexander's pride by treating him like a child and referring to him as 'son,' or 'my boy.' He referred to him as 'Mr. Hamilton,' an equal. "You will find on this journey that my priority is not hiding from the British. Indeed, I have signed a Declaration of War in which my name is larger than every other signature. Let the King know my name. All the more glorious for me."

This man was Alexander's god.

"Have you encountered redcoats on the sea before?" Alexander followed Mr. Hancock as he strode the length of the vessel, surveying each crewman's work.

Mr. Hancock glanced at Alexander, looking amused. "Often twice before docking in France."

"And what about pirates?" Alexander had always been very curious about the life of a privateer.

"Oh, we will encounter plenty of pirates," Mr. Hancock assured him. "And as a soldier, I fully expect you to participate in defending this vessel. Do you understand me, sir?"

"I do." Alexander's eyes shone with excitement.

"Very good," Mr. Hancock approved. "All right men. Let's set sail!"

The vessel lurched from under Alexander's feet. Crewmen wandered to and fro, adjusting the ropes, the sails, and several other components of the ship that Alexander did not even pretend to understand. Mr. Hancock remained calm through it all, looking around him with a stern expression. Alexander did his best to imitate the expression, but found very quickly that it grew tiresome to be in charge of this vessel.

For an hour, all he and Mr. Hancock did was look around at the crewmen working.

Knowing that his time was far more valuable than this, Alexander quickly found an excuse to escape to the cabin below deck. "Sir, I think that I will begin working on my negotiation with Britain, if you will excuse my absence."

"Of course, Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Hancock did not seem perturbed in the least.

Alexander nodded to Mr. Hancock before venturing below. He pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket. It was already soaked through, smelling strongly of saltwater. Alexander swore under his breath before removing a pencil from his pocket and scraping it against a blank page of the notebook, hoping that the mark would show.

It did, just barely.

But that was enough. Alexander sat down on a barrel full of salted pork and wrote a letter to John.

 _My dearest,_

 _John,_

 _I am currently aboard a vessel that is sailing for France. I have never been to Europe before. I am excited to use my French for something other than speaking to Lafayette._

 _I do not expect to be in France for very long. My intended destination is London. Yes, London, where you are. My intended destination is always where you are._

 _The General told me that you exchanged yourself for your father and that you are now residing in the Tower of London. I cannot imagine what suffering you are enduring within the confines of the Tower. I hope that you will remain strong and resilient. I hope that you do not tell the redcoats anything. I will love you all the same if you do, but I would like it if your country would adore you as well. The General might have to prosecute you for treason if you share any secrets; we saw the hanging of that traitor, Mulaney, last year. I could not bear to see such a hanging on your behalf._

 _I do not know how I will get you out of the Tower upon my arrival to_ London, _but never fear, my dear friend, for I have a long journey ahead and what appears to be a great deal of time to consider this conundrum. I will not rest until you are liberated. After all, is the purpose of this great war_ not _liberation? What kind of soldier would I be, if I could not free the oppressed?_

 _The ship is rocking terribly now, and I am very afraid that the barrel that I am perched on will collapse under my weight. I will not admit to you the weight that I have gained since beginning this journey. Instead, I shall go and try to be of use to the ship's captain, Mr. John Hancock. I will tell you more about Mr. Hancock as my journey continues. He appears to be a great man._

 _Ever yours,_

 _A. Hamilton_

* * *

John spent the next eternity or so in his cell. That's what it felt like, anyway.

"Could I get some paper or something to draw on? It's getting kind of boring in here," he asked his guards.

"No."

"Why not? Scared I'll try to break out?"

"No."

John shrank back into the cell and sat on the cold floor. He sighed.

Meanwhile, Eddy was asked to go to Officer McCullough's office. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but it couldn't have been good.

"You asked for me, sir?"

"Yes, Edward, it has come to my attention that you and the prisoner have been quite...friendly to one another."

"We've just conversed a few times. Nothing more,"

"Your brother told me otherwise. He said you untied him even after he has shown rather dangerous behavior towards your fellow soldiers."

"He wasn't doing anything wrong at the time, sir. He was just talking."

"That's not what Reginald told me. As your commanding officer, I'm asking you to be rougher with him. Don't let him push you around. He's our prisoner, for George's sake! Grow a backbone, or I'll have you re-sanctioned."

Eddy nodded. "Yes, sir." He saluted, then left.

He decided to go past John's cell on his way back to his quarters.

John heard footsteps coming toward the cell. He stood up and walked to the door. "Eddy. What a surprise."

Eddy stopped in front of the cell door and made eye contact with John. He took a deep breath and set his mouth in a frown. "Hello, Laurens."

"Hey. Listen, you seem like a sensible guy. Do you think you could sneak me some paper and a pen in here? It's boring just sitting around, and there's some things I want to draw before they escape my brain. Please?" He sounded like he'd put his sarcasm down for once. This was something he actually cared about.

"I don't know… I was told I need to be tougher around you," Eddy replied with a shrug.

"No one needs to know you gave it to me."

Eddy looked down. "I suppose I could try and find some…"

"Thank you."

"Sure." Eddy left the cell. He went back to his quarters and searched around. He found an empty notebook and a few pens in different colors. He grabbed them all and hid them in the folds of his uniform.

He returned to the cell, opened it with permission from the two standing there, and handed them to him. "Here."

John did something surprising, in Eddy's opinion: he hugged him. "Thank you, Eddy. You saved me from dying of boredom." He pulled out and smiled.

Eddy half-smiled back. "You're welcome." He exited the cell, locking it behind him.

John sat on the floor where it was somewhat smooth, and some light was creeping in. He began to sketch.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

 _My dearest,_

 _John,_

 _Though I will never consider myself a seafaring man, I can proudly say that I have quite an aptitude for nautical life. Mr. Hancock told me so, himself. I now wake with the sailors every morning before dawn to raise the masts and perform calculations with a map. Perhaps the General might consider me for a position in the_ navy, _if we ever get one._

 _I am terribly concerned that you are suffering, where you are. I know that I speak of pleasant things, like sailing and Mr. Hancock, but it is only to distract myself. In fact,_

Alexander's letter was cut short as shouts and gunshots sounded overhead, above deck. Alexander quickly abandoned his journal, stashing it underneath a keg of salt, where it would be kept safe and dry. Most importantly, it would be kept out of the hands of an unwanted reader. He then grabbed his saber and surged up the rickety steps to the main deck, where the chaos appeared to be happening.

There were redcoats - dozens of them. All of the men, including Mr. Hancock, were fighting the forces with just as much grit and integrity as Washington's troops.

"Mr. Hamilton, so good of you to join us!" Mr. Hancock yelled over the din, his sword - which Alexander had thought was purely decorative until this moment - slicing through the abdomen of a British soldier.

Alexander smiled at Mr. Hancock before leaping into the action, stabbing just about anything and anyone that came his way, including one unfortunate soldier who crossed Alexander's path shortly after he had engaged in rather serious hand-to-hand combat with a British officer.

Alexander's heart thundered against his chest as he fought off soldier after soldier. He was no longer relying on the training so carefully given by General Washington. He was reacting solely on instinct, playing every part of the foot soldier that he had dreamt of being when the war began. This was what he had come to war for.

The clash lasted nearly thirty minutes, but to Alexander, it felt closer to five. When the last of the red coats was tossed overboard, only their empty vessel remained. Alexander wiped his brow with the crook of his elbow, accidentally spreading the blood that he had hoped to remove.

"Alright, men," Mr. Hancock's appearance was impeccable despite the fighting. There was not a drop of blood on his clothing, nor was there a hair out of place on his head. "Ready the ropes. This will be a difficult tow. Mr. Colbert, have you considered which men you would prefer for your crew?"

"Yes, sir." Mr. Hancock's right-hand man, referred to as a first-mate within the confines of the vessel, said. "I have selected my men. For such a ship, I will require twelve."

"Twelve?" Mr. Hancock's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He looked around the ship, taking note of each crew member that his eyes came across. "No, no, no. I cannot spare twelve men for a small ship like this one. I doubt the ship costs half of the wages that I would have to pay for such a crew. You may take eight."

"Yes, sir." The first-mate bowed respectfully before walking among the crew, selecting the men for a purpose that Alexander didn't altogether understand.

As the first-mate selected his eight men, Mr. Hancock turned to Alexander. "Mr. Hamilton, have you much experience with maps?"

"I have read a few books on the subject matter, sir," Alexander replied, his expression inquisitive. He wanted Mr. Hancock to explain himself before he asked any more questions.

"And how comfortable are you with a compass?"

"Not at all, sir," Alexander admitted, perplexed.

"Are you a quick study?" Mr. Hancock's eyes narrowed.

"Exceptionally so, sir," Alexander answered.

"Good," Mr. Hancock approved, not flinching as the crewmen threw lines across the water onto the British vessel and pulled it close.

Alexander was launched forward a few paces when the two ships collided. No one else appeared fazed; indeed, the eight crewmen selected by the first-mate jumped onto the British vessel while it was close. The first-mate joined them without a second glance.

"Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Hancock drew Alexander's attention away from the crew's possession of the British vessel. "You are now my first-mate. Go to Mr. Colbert's quarters and make yourself familiar with the equipment that you will be using from now on."

"Y-yes, sir!" Alexander answered shakily, unable to hide his surprise.

He hurried down to the quarters that belonged to the first-mate and set to work learning the ropes of his new position.

* * *

John sketched for hours. Faces, people, places. He drew those two guards outside his cell from the side. He drew the two brothers, Eddy and Reggie. He drew faces he remembered from back in America, his friends and family. And he drew Alex. He drew him wearing that sweet yet flirtatious grin that melted John every time he saw it. Seeing Alex's face again, even just on paper, brought up memories that felt far in the past. He realized how much he missed him, and that guilt about leaving without saying goodbye resurfaced and brought tears to his eyes.

He kept his tears quiet. He didn't want those guards thinking he was w was not the time.

He closed the notebook and held it to his chest as he sat up against the wall of the cell.

"Laurens? Are you alright?"

John looked up. It was Eddy. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. "Like I'm never not alright."

"You look like you were crying."

"I wasn't crying. What makes you think that?"

"John, it's okay if you're homesick. I get it sometimes."

"But you live here. Don't you?"

"Not in London. My home's miles from here, near the southern coast."

"Well, so is mine. Only it's across the ocean." John looked down at the notebook. "I guess I am a little homesick. But not for my home, exactly." Who was he kidding? Alex was home.

"Oh, you have someone in America?"

John's throat tightened. What was he doing? He couldn't say anything about him and Alex. Especially not to a Redcoat. Even if it was Eddy.

He decided to play it like any guy would. "Yeah, I have someone," he said calmly. It's not like he was lying.

"I'm sure they miss you as well."

He didn't say she.

"Anyone you're hoping to go home to, Eddy?" John asked, reflecting the question back.

"No, just my mum."

"Oh. Anyone you have your eye on, then?" He said it casually, like they were two friends talking about romance over a drink instead of on two sides of a prison cell door.

Eddy thought for a moment. He averted John's gaze when he said, "Maybe."

John raised and eyebrow and smirked. "Oh really?"

"I don't want to discuss it. Goodbye." Eddy walked on down the hallway.

John went back into the notebook and turned to the page where he'd sketched Eddy's face. He'd drawn him with a worried look on that, John had to admit, looked kind of cute in an Eddy sort of way.

He closed it again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

 _My dearest John,_

 _I cannot wait until we are reunited, for I have so much to share with you! While aboard Mr. Hancock's Liberty, we exchanged fire with the British. They came aboard with the intention of seizing our ship, but in the end, it was us that seized their ship! Mr. Hancock says that the ship is worth approximately one million pounds. Can you imagine owning anything worth even half a million pounds?_

 _As a consequence of our taking the British ship, Mr. Hancock was forced to part with his first-mate, who will sail the British ship back to Boston where it will be safely out of British reach. In his first-mate's absence, Mr. Hancock has declared that I am to be first-mate. Imagine! When we were at camp, could you have ever imagined me serving as a Captain's first-mate?_

 _Based off of the maps that I have been reading for Mr. Hancock, I will arrive in France within the week. Mr. Hancock is bringing me to Paris with him - he wishes to introduce me to some connections who may help smuggle me into England._

 _I hope to see you soon, dear friend. Every moment I spend separated from you, I am in agony._

 _Yours,_

 _A. Hamilton_

"Mr. Hamilton!" Alexander was called upon deck one morning as he studied the map that he had been staring at every free second he had since becoming first-mate.

"Yes, sir!" Alexander rushed up from the cabins, stumbling over the rotting stairs as he climbed up on deck. He squinted at the unfamiliarity of the sun before turning to look at Mr. Hancock.

"Take a look over the bow and tell me what you see." Mr. Hancock looked at him the way that Washington sometimes looked at him when the older man was feeling proud of something that Alexander had done.

Alexander did as he was told, walking the length of the ship to peer over the edge. When he did, he was surprised to see land.

"Is that France?" He asked, racing back to where Mr. Hancock was standing.

"Yes, it is," Mr. Hancock grinned. "Put on your finest clothes, young man, for we have a dinner meeting with the Duke of Anjou this evening, where we will be discussing your English matter very carefully."

"My finest clothes," Alexander's face reddened. "Sir, as I'm sure you can appreciate, I did not embark upon this journey with the intention of dining with nobility…"

Mr. Hancock seemed to understand immediately. "We will visit my tailor in Paris beforehand. It is unlikely that he will be able to make you something new, but he will undoubtedly have something that is approximately your size awaiting another purchaser. He can be persuaded to part with it for an evening."

"Thank you," Alexander could hardly express his gratitude adequately.

Mr. Hancock just smiled and nodded, refocusing his attention on the land in the distance.

When the ship docked, Alexander helped the rest of the crew secure the vessel to the designated post before climbing onto the dock with noticeably less grace than Mr. Hancock.

"Hasten your step, Mr. Hamilton!" Mr. Hancock called over his shoulder as Alexander's pace slowed. He had been looking around, observing the strange styles of the French citizens surrounding them. They looked so different than Lafayette. They spoke in a different dialect than Lafayette, too. "We have a long drive to Paris ahead of us, and not much time to accomplish such a distance."

"Yes, sir!" Alexander quickened his pace, trying his best to ignore the sea of powder-white faces surrounding him. He would look more closely once they arrived in Paris.

Mr. Hancock hailed a cab just a mile away from the port, handing over a velvet purse containing several gold pieces, judging by the clinking noise that accompanied the transaction, as the driver agreed to begin the journey straight away.

As the horses picked up the pace under the driver's relentless whip, Mr. Hancock busied himself with a book that he had removed from his bag. Sensing that he did not want to talk, Alexander removed his journal from his own bag and began to write a letter. His handwriting was sloppy, as the road was bumpy, but he managed to keep everything on the page.

 _My dearest John,_

 _I am currently in a carriage headed for Paris. Mr. Hancock has informed me that I will be dining with a real, live French Duke. The Duke of Anjou, I believe. Can you believe that? Me, meeting a Duke! The General doesn't even trust me to speak to other Generals in his absence._

 _I am not dining with the Duke for my own pleasure, however. Mr. Hancock tells me that the Duke may have connections to someone who may be able to smuggle me into England unnoticed. That said, Mr. Hancock is having me visit with a Parisian tailor to drape me in the finest linens_ _offered_ _so that my lowly camp clothes do not offend the Duke. It will be nice to wear something that does not have loose stitching, I must admit. You know that I have always been meticulous about my appearance._

As Alexander smiled at his last sentence and considered the right words for the next, he heard the sound of gunfire followed by the scream of an injured horse and men and women shouting.

"What was that?" He tried to poke his head out of the window, but Mr. Hancock grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back with enough force to send Alexander tumbling onto the carriage floor.

"Thieves," Mr. Hancock explained, fumbling with his clothing in an effort to conceal coins. "Hide all of your valuables, but do not protest if they find any such possessions and try to take them. These are not honorable men. They will not think twice about shooting you."

Just as Alexander was fumbling with his journal, the door to the carriage was wrenched open. A burly man with a filthy face sneered at them before barking, " _En dehors_."

Mr. Hancock stood up and stepped from the carriage just as gracefully as he could manage just before the burly man hit him upside the head with a pistol.

"Sir!" Alexander cried involuntarily, scrambling out of the carriage after Mr. Hancock. Before he could reach Mr. Hancock, who was struggling to his feet, the burly man caught Alexander by the collar of his shirt. Alexander turned around, grappling with the arms that were restricting him.

The burly man raised his pistol-holding hand, preparing to strike Alexander, but was halted.

" _Arretez_!" A young woman commanded.

Stop. She had told the man to stop.

Alexander looked around wildly until his eyes fell on the figure of a young woman stepping forward, removing the detailed mask on her face.

She was gorgeous; but very, very French. She had sharp yellow eyes, pouty lips, and jet black hair. She walked like a jungle cat stalking its prey. Alexander looked over at Mr. Hancock nervously. Mr. Hancock didn't look back at him.

"You are English, no?" She swapped out her French as she took another predatory step towards Alexander.

"Yes," Alexander replied, trying to take a step back. The burly man blocked his path, grunting unceremoniously when Alexander backed into him.

"And so 'andsome," She continued, her pouty lips curving into a smirk.

Typically, Alexander would have been thrilled by such a compliment, but he didn't trust it coming from this woman.

"What iz your name?" She inquired, now standing less than a foot away from Alexander.

"Alexander," He answered, looking at his shoes instead of the woman. "Madame."

"Do you 'ave money, Meester Alexander?"

"No, Madame,"

"Zat is too bad," The woman didn't seem all that bothered by Alexander's lack of money, despite her words. " _Monsieur Callais_ , I think zat Meester Alexander would suit our purposes just perfectly, don't you?"

" _Oui_ ," The burly man agreed with a smile that Alexander didn't care for.

"Good," The woman purred. "Take 'im. Leave zee rest."

"Wait!" Alexander heard Mr. Hancock protest just before he heard a loud crunching noise followed by a searing pain at the back of his head. The ground suddenly came into view, though he couldn't remember falling. The last thing that he heard as his vision blurred into nothingness was the French woman saying, "Do not be offended, Meester Hancock. You are 'andsome, too. This one will only suit my needs a leetle better."

* * *

The new guard sent to cuff him nodded without a word as he bound John's hands and pushed him out the cell.

"Got a name, Mr. Silent Treatment?"

The guard shrugged. "I'm not supposed to converse with prisoners," he mumbled quietly.

"Oh, well that makes sense. You guards tend to be total bores anyway."

The guard frowned at that.

He took John to a different room than the office he'd been in before. It was dark except for the light of a lantern on the far wall. He was forcefully sat down in what felt like a wooden chair, and his hands were uncuffed and retired around the back of it. "What is this, a kidnapping?" John asked turning his head to face the guard.

The guard shrugged again before leaving him there alone, or so he thought.

Three figures emerged out of the darkness of the room. The two on the ends were obviously soldiers, one happening to be Reggie once John could see his face, the other this small guy he didn't recognize, wearing all black under his coat instead of white. In the middle was Charles McCullough, holding a stack of papers and smiling like he would have the last word today. "Good morning, Mr. Laurens." His voice was mock polite.

"Lovely day, isn't it, Charlie?"

Charles' smirk disappeared from them on. "I am not here to discuss the weather." He nodded at the smaller guy.

The smaller guy nodded and gave John a manic look in the eyes. He punched him hard in the arm before retreating back into the shadows.

John sucked in the pain. For a small dude that guy packed some muscle. "Wow, you really thought about everything today, didn't you, Charlie?"

Charles ignored him. "Now, Laurens, you will tell me all you know about what those bloody Americans are up to, or Interrogation Officer Wyatt here might have to try a bit harder to get you to talk. Though since apparently you don't 'do' titles, Levi is fine.

Levi cracked his knuckles. It echoed.

John was a little bit scared now, but he didn't let it show. "Sure, let him try. I won't talk."

Levi walked around and kicked the back of the chair, hard, so John fell onto the floor and landed on his head. Then he wrenched the chair upright so he was staring John in the eyes, the chair only standing on two legs. "Tell him what you know, scum, or I'll break you till you can't be put back together." His voice was deep.

"Never. You can't break me." John whispered it, since his head was still in pain from hitting stone.

"We'll see." Levi smirked.

John felt dizzy as he was punched in the stomach. He would have keeled over if he wasn't forced to sit upright.

Charles was eating this up with his eyes. Reggie looked a bit pale.

"Beating me up doesn't make me want to talk any more." John's voice was now shaky.

Charles waved a hand at Levi, and he backed off. Charles walked up to John and crossed his arms. "Spill it. I can tell you know something. How could one of Washington's aides not know anything about his plans?"

"I won't betray my country to stop a little pain. I've been through worse than this." That was a lie.

"Fine, we'll try again when you feel like talking." Charles left the room, and Reggie went after him, looking back once, like he was contemplating whether to leave John alone with Levi.

John didn't get the chance to talk to him at all by himself because he blacked out.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Alexander was getting really sick of waking up in unfamiliar places.

"Meester 'amilton," The French woman purred as his eyes fluttered open. Alexander's heart sank. He had been hoping that the robbery had been some kind of nightmare. "'ow nice of you to join us."

Alexander sat up, wincing at the pain in his head, before looking around his new environment. He was in a shabby little shack, sitting on a cold, stone floor. The French woman was sitting beside him, smiling at him with something that might have looked like affection on a less-threatening face.

The French woman wasn't alone. There were three other men in the room, all looking at him.

"What am I doing here?" Alexander demanded, looking around the room suspiciously.

"We have taken you," The French woman said, matter-of-factly. "You will be of much use to us."

"Who are you?"

"I am Sophie," The woman's name was Sophie. She waved at the men in the background. "These are my brothers. They are not so important."

"Why have you taken me, Sophie?" Alexander knew that patience would be his friend in such a situation.

"Because you are 'andsome," Sophie answered with a smirk. "And the queen likes 'andsome men."

"The queen?" Alexander was having trouble keeping up.

"Yes," Sophie seemed more amused than impatient. "There have been rumors around the palace that the queen grows restless. Whoever 'as the queen's ear 'as the queen's influence. I intend to 'ave both."

"You can't think that I…"

"You go to court tomorrow. We already 'ave your papers."

"That's ridiculous, I can't…"

"Non-negotiable, Meester 'amilton," Sophie said firmly. "You play our game, or you die."

* * *

"Monsieur Hamilton," Alexander could not believe that he was bowing in front of King Louis XVI, let alone the fact that the King of France had just said his name. "Welcome to my court. I hope that you will find everything to your liking."

"I'm sure that I will, sire," As he stood up from his bow, Alexander was careful to shift his gaze to the queen, Marie Antoinette exactly the way that Sophie had coached him to do. She had been looking at him as though he were no more exciting than a piece of furniture, but the moment their eyes locked, her demeanor changed. A wry smile played on her lips before she opened her fan, hiding her mouth. Her eyes, though, they still contained the same flirtatious laughter that her smile had conveyed.

But Sophie had instructed him not to let his gaze linger. His eyes had to suggest the idea of an interest, but his behavior had to suggest that such an interest would not be maintained without some sort of gesture on the queen's part.

Once he left the king's audience and was permitted to join the party among French nobles, Alexander found himself a glass of wine and set to work gulping it down. He was supposed to be rescuing John. He was not supposed to be vying for influence in the French court for a woman who had kidnapped him.

But to rescue John, he had to be alive. If he was going to survive, he was going to have to ensnare the queen.

* * *

John woke up sprawled on the floor of his cell, greeting the world with spotty vision accompanied by a splitting headache and the taste of blood in his mouth. "Ow…" He rubbed his head as he struggled to stand.

"Be quiet, Laurens," a guard barked from outside.

John felt aches in his limbs, probably from falling forward in the chair during the interrogation. He shifted around so he was sitting up against the wall. He let out a tired breath, looking at his arm. There was a bruise where Levi had punched him, all shades of purple. "That can't be good…" he mumbled. He felt his face. He couldn't see it currently, but he had a black eye and multiple scrapes and cuts from hitting the floor. His lip was sliced a bit, which was why he could taste the blood.

His legs also ached. He didn't know this since he'd been unconscious, but Levi had thrown him back into the cell like a rag doll before leaving. John had been unconscious for a little over a day.

He noticed that his journal was gone as he looked weakly around the room. "No…" he muttered.

What he also did not know was that Levi had returned the journal to whom it belonged to. According to a small inscription on the front cover, it belonged to Eddy.

"Hey, Reg, give this to that brother of yours." Levi threw the notebook hard at Reginald. It hit him in the chest and he winced.

Not questioning Levi out of fear, Reggie regained his composure and handed it to Eddy the next time their paths crossed. "Officer Wyatt told me this was yours. He found it in Laurens' cell."

Eddy paled at hearing Levi's name. Everyone knew he was merciless when it came to beating on people, both physically and mentally.

He took the journal back to his quarters and began to reluctantly page through it. He saw the picture of him and Reggie and stared.

He flipped to the next page to a sketch of someone clearly close to John. It was very detailed unlike some of the other sketches, with the man's name scrawled across the bottom. "Alexander," he read out loud. No other sketch was labeled.

He closed the notebook, put it inside his coat, and walked to the tower. He went into John's cell to see him curled up against the wall, clearly injured. "Oh no…" He rushed over and knelt down in front of John. "You need a doctor." This was clearly Wyatt's work. He cursed under his breath.

"Huh! Someone there?" John mumbled. "Everything hurts…"

"Laurens, I'm going to get a doctor. Don't move." Eddy stood up and walked out of the cell.

"Don't leave. I'm lonely…"

"I have to. You need to stay there, okay?"

"Fine, be like that." John had tears in his eyes.

Eddy looked away so he could focus. He'd ask about Alexander later. Now, he needed to hurry.

He found the doctor and told him there was an injured prisoner.

"What? Take me to him."

Eddy nodded and led the doctor to John. "Oh my…Help me get him to my quarters. I have supplies there."

They took John to the doctor's room, where he immediately fell asleep as he was placed on the cot.

Eddy could see John's injuries clearly now, and they looked awful.

"He may be in here for some time. We can't waste it, if some diplomat found out about this, they'd find some way to make it into a war crime." The doctor shook his head.

"Thanks, Doctor Sherwood." Eddy left. He winced as he heard a scream of pain as the doctor began to examine John's wounds.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

 _My dearest John,_

 _I have so much to apologize for. I apologize for the neglect that has fallen upon this journal. I apologize for not thinking of you as often as I would like. I apologize for being in France two weeks beyond the intended date of my departure for England. I apologize for my conditions, which I am certain are much better than yours. Most importantly, I apologize for Marie._

 _Ever yours,_

 _A. Hamilton_

"I have to go," Marie giggled, her cheeks flushed and her lipstick smudged. She looked around the maze, lit by candlelight at night. "My ladies will be wondering where I am. You know, I am the queen. I should not allow you to dictate where we are to meet."

Her accent was thick, Austrian. Evidence that, like Alexander, she did not belong in French court. Alexander smiled lazily at the sound of her voice before focusing on her words.

"Do you consider this to be a disagreeable place?" He asked, still smiling.

"It is the perfect place," Marie admitted with an air of playful resentment. "I just wish that I had been able to instruct you to meet me here first."

"Then why don't I hold you responsible for our next clandestine meeting?" Alexander suggested teasingly.

"Hmm…" Marie's mouth pursed with an involuntary smile. "How about…"

"Not now," Alexander shook his head, grinning. "Send me a message closer to the desired time. Give yourself a moment to think."

"There you are, ordering me about again." Marie smiled, her dimples etched into her face by the moonlight.

"I apologize, your highness," Alexander bowed dramatically low.

"Don't bother," Marie rolled her eyes, giggling. "You know perfectly well that I don't mind. But how shall I send you a message? I don't know if I trust you with one of my ladies."

"I assure you, your highness, I will treat your ladies like queens."

"Ah, but you see why I worry, _Monsieur_ Hamilton," Marie smiled, backing away from him towards the entrance of the maid. "I know all too well how you treat a queen."

"Goodnight, your highness," Alexander grinned as Marie left his sight.

"Goodnight, _Monsieur_ ," Marie's voice carried breezily through the night air.

Just as Marie disappeared from sight, there was a rustling behind Alexander. He turned around to face a beaming Sophie. The grin that he kept on reserve for his affair with the queen dissolved. He frowned at Sophie, not bothering to hide his displeasure at her company.

"And what do you have to share with me tonight, Meester 'amilton?" Sophie enquired, lacing her arm through Alexander's and leading him around the maze. She did not mind his contempt; she continued to tease and flirt with him as though they were old friends.

"Not very much. She's a sixteen year-old girl who wants to discuss nothing other than the dinner party she is attending next," Alexander answered irritably. "While I listened to her drone on, I continued to wonder - why don't I just turn you in? I wouldn't lose favor with the queen. She doesn't know you, and it would be my word against yours."

"Because then, Meester 'amilton, I would 'ave to 'ave you keeled," Sophie replied as though doing so would cause her great pain.

"How would you do that? I'm staying at the palace, which you have no access to, and again, I'll remind you that I am the queen's favorite, not you."

Sophie clucked her tongue, halting their walk and placing a hand upon Alexander's cheek. "Do not think zat others have not had the same thoughts as you, silly man. Eef you overstep the limits that we 'ave placed, you will be keeled. Do not think that the queen's affection may save you from me."

Alexander flinched away from Sophie's touch. "I don't have any information for you tonight."

Sophie's eyes narrowed. "I 'ope you are telling the truth, Meester 'amilton. I would 'ate to see that 'andsome 'ead of yours fall on the wrong side of the guillotine."

* * *

"Mr. Hamilton!" Five nights later, he heard a voice across the ballroom that sent a chill down his spine.

"Mr. Hancock?" Alexander didn't hide the disbelief in his voice.

From her throne beside her husband, Marie looked from Alexander to Mr. Hancock, displeasure plain on her face. She did not like it when Alexander noticed anyone but her at a party.

"I thought that we had lost you forever!" Mr. Hancock looked uncharacteristically happy, giddy with surprise. "We had written to the General, informing him of the loss. But how did you escape?"

Alexander looked around the ballroom, knowing that he was not in a safe enough environment to tell Mr. Hancock what was really happening. He was hardly the only person at court under Sophie's control. Nobles watched him with narrowed eyes. Marie watched him with a pout. He was certain that at least one of Sophie's brothers were watching from the eaves.

"I would like to see you again, my friend," He said, his voice strained as he did his best to withhold tears.

"Then you shall!" Mr. Hancock said, not seeming to understand that Alexander could not go anywhere or do anything on his own free will. "I intend to have dinner with Mr. Benjamin Franklin, his colleague, Mr. John Adams, and Mr. Adams' protégée, Mr. Thomas Jefferson, tomorrow night. You will join us. There, we may discuss the purpose that brought you to France."

At least the man had enough care to avoid talking about Alexander's American origins in this French court.

"I would like that very much," Alexander agreed with a relieved smile. He could work with such a dinner invitation. Sophie would be foaming at the mouth for a rare insight into the workings of the French diplomats sent from America. There was mass speculation throughout Paris as to whether America would be a decent investment for France.

"Wonderful. Shall I engage a carriage to pick you up, or do you have means of transportation?" Mr. Hancock looked around the ballroom, possibly beginning to understand that Alexander's position in court was precarious at best.

"If you had a carriage to spare, I would be much obliged," Alexander answered, knowing better than to trust any carriage that Sophie might have access to.

"Then I shall send a carriage around five. I assume your courtly duty will be done by then," Mr. Hancock looked around the ornate ballroom, looking slightly amused by the grandeur of it all.

Alexander only smiled. His courtly duty was never done.

Mr. Hancock bowed low. "Mr. Hamilton."

Alexander returned the bow. "Mr. Hancock."

As soon as Mr. Hancock disappeared, one of Sophie's brothers materialized by Alexander's side. "Come out to the gardens, immediately."

Alexander knew better than to argue. He glanced in Marie's direction - smiling hesitantly at her pouty frown - before escaping the ballroom and venturing outside into the garden. He ignored the few noble couples carrying on throughout the gardens, each tactfully ignoring the other's extramarital affairs, and proceeded towards the maze, where Sophie was waiting for him. She looked displeased. News spread fast among the French court.

"You are to dine with Meester Hancock?" Sophie asked, her voice harsh.

"Yes," Alexander answered cautiously. He recognized this as just about his only chance of getting out of Versailles without losing his head in the process. "Mr. Hancock, along with Mr. Benjamin Franklin, Mr. John Adams and Mr. Thomas Jefferson. I believe that I could learn a great deal about American/French relations at the dinner."

"Why should I trust you?" Sophie demanded suspiciously.

"Because I'll come back," Alexander responded quickly, forcing himself to look into Sophie's cold eyes as he spoke. This was a long-shot, but it was still his best chance at survival. "I'll always come back to you, Sophie."

Morally speaking, leading Sophie to believe that he was interested in her was abhorrent. But then, Sophie's morals were also abhorrent. Plus, Alexander was only lying in order to save John. Surely that redeemed his actions considerably.

Sophie's eyes widened. She tried to catch herself, but it was too late. Alexander saw the opportunity and seized it.

"Surely you must know," He implored, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "This is all for you. Had I not been so enchanted, so…inspired, I would have tried to escape long ago."

"Just dinner," Sophie yanked her hand out of Alexander's grasp. He didn't care. He saw the blush spreading across her cheeks. His act had been effective. "Then you return to me. Yes?"

"Yes." Alexander breathed, struggling to force back a smile.

As she turned and walked down the path, Alexander finally let himself grin, a massive sigh of relief heaving from his chest.

One step closer. He now found himself one step closer to John Laurens.

* * *

John had fallen asleep again in the hospital room. He woke up to pain.

"Ah, good to see you're alive," an unfamiliar voice spoke up as John's spotty vision returned to normal.

John sat up a little bit. He winced.

"You're lucky, Laurens. Most people who get interrogated by Wyatt don't get medical attention. Adds to the torture affect," a familiar voice, Reggie, sounded rather annoyed.

"Reggie, no one asked you to come. Please leave," Eddy said.

"Whatever, but don't take long." Reggie left.

"You too, Thomas." Eddy turned to the other fellow in the room.

"But-" Thomas protested.

"Out." Eddy pointed to the door.

"John, I looked through the notebook. Who's Alexander?" Eddy asked him once Reggie and Thomas were both gone.

"He...he's my best friend. From back in America." John wasn't lying.

"He's better drawn than I am. And how long has it been since you've seen him?"

John shrugged. "However long since I left home."

"It's very impressive." Eddy looked over the drawing again.

"Thanks…ow." John had moved a limb and now it ached.

"You should rest, it's better for your recovery." Eddy closed the notebook.

John nodded in understanding. He lay back down. "Why did you bring me to the hospital? Aren't I just a prisoner?" He raised an eyebrow.

Eddy sighed, looking at the ground. "You might've died had I not called Sherwood to help bring you in. Wyatt did some terrible damage to you and we need you alive."

John could see in Eddy's expression that wasn't the only reason.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Hancock looked surprised to see Alexander as he opened the door. Behind him lingered a number of well-dressed men. Men that Alexander had never seen before, but was certain that he had heard of before. "How wonderful it is to see you! I must confess, we did not expect you to attend this soiree of ours, given your new friendship with France."

"A necessary friendship," Alexander's smile grew strained as he pushed himself past Mr. Hancock and into the foyer of the mansion. "Which I would be glad to explain if I might have a private audience with you later this evening."

"Private audience?" Mr. Hancock grabbed Alexander's elbow before he could enter the ballroom unannounced. "Mr. Hamilton, what do you mean by such a thing? What could you need to speak to me about?"

"Mr. Hancock, please." Alexander looked around him, certain that Sophie had done her best to plant spies within the dinner party. At the very least, he was sure that there were spies lingering outside of the mansion, hoping to catch a snippet of some exchange between the men. He was risking a lot by attending the dinner party in the first place; every step that he took from here on out had to be carefully thought out. There was no margin for error. "Humor me."

"Very well, Mr. Hamilton." Mr. Hancock's eyes narrowed. "After dinner, we will meet in my temporary studies. I will give you five minutes of my time, and not a second more."

"Understood. Thank you, sir." Alexander's heart leapt. He finally stood a chance.

Mr. Hancock nodded at length. "Now, let us go and enjoy this party, shall we?"

"Yes, sir." Alexander agreed, following Mr. Hancock into the party.

He had every intention of remaining beside Mr. Hancock through the evening, mostly because he was impatient for their meeting, but also partially because he did not know anyone at this party. Everyone appeared so successful, so wealthy. Alexander felt inadequate surrounded by them all.

"So you must the disappearing protégée," An older man with a low hairline approached Alexander with a glass of wine in hand. "What was the name, again?"

"Oh, uh, Hamilton, sir." Alexander stuck out his hand. The older man looked down at it with an amused smile before looking up at Alexander. Alexander let his hand drop to his side again. He told himself that the man hadn't shaken his hand solely because of the wine glass in his hand. He didn't think about the other, available hand that the man could have used. "And you are?"

"Benjamin Franklin." The older man said it with confidence. That confidence was well-founded. Alexander had heard his name all over both America and France. He was an international sensation. He was also a notorious scoundrel.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Franklin." Alexander smiled eagerly. "I heard that you were in France. Are you here to recover funds for the revolution? Do you think that the court is well-disposed to sign a treaty with us?"

Mr. Franklin's smile turned patronizing. "I'm afraid that I can't divulge such information, Mr. Hamilton."

Alexander frowned. He wasn't used to not knowing all of the information surrounding the war. He had always been able to access confidential documents when at camp. Then again, he had to remind himself, he was not at camp any longer. He was out in the world with men who did not yet know his name. He needed to remain in their good graces, for it was likely that he would need their help to rescue John.

"Of course." Alexander tried to resolve his frown. "Are you enjoying France very much? Do you speak French very well?"

"I do," Mr. Franklin puffed his chest out proudly.

"He does not," A lanky, red-haired man skulked over, looking at Mr. Franklin dispassionately. "I am constantly having to clean up some mess that he has created with his inadequacies. Mr. Adams, too. It is a shame that more young men do not know French. Surely it is a greater skill than Latin these days."

"I think that there is room for French and Latin, Mr…" Alexander looked at the man in askance, hoping that he would be so kind as to provide his name. Alexander was sure that he had never seen this man before, not even at court. He couldn't imagine where Mr. Hancock had dug him up.

"Jefferson," Mr. Jefferson looked Alexander over critically. "Mr. Franklin, would you care to formally introduce me to your new conversation partner?"

Alexander had heard of Thomas Jefferson. Oh, boy, had he heard of Thomas Jefferson. General Washington kept in constant correspondence with the man - they both resided in Virginia. They had been in the House of Burgess together. Once the war began, Jefferson had joined the Congress the country had put forward to govern themselves. He had written a Declaration of Independence to the King of England. He was a man of great importance.

"Hardly." Mr. Franklin was also scrutinizing Alexander. Alexander tried not to fidget under both men's stares. "I am much more interested to hear about your daughter. I hear that she is visiting you, currently. Would you care to tell me how she is liking the country?"

"Certainly." Mr. Jefferson's expression grew strained. "But first I think that I ought to recover a glass of wine for myself."

"I'll join you." Mr. Franklin cast Alexander one more disapproving look before following Mr. Jefferson to the refreshment table.

"You are not making yourself very amenable, are you?" Mr. Hancock's voice came from behind Alexander.

Alexander reluctantly turned around to make eye contact with him. "It seems that I am not, sir. Is there something that I should do…something I should say to them?"

Mr. Hancock shrugged, looking over his shoulder at Mr. Franklin and Mr. Jefferson. "I will confess, I could not tell you if there were. Both men are difficult to please, though in much different ways. Mr. Franklin is fonder of women than he is of men, and Mr. Jefferson is something of a social recluse. I suppose now that they're occupying one another's time, we may as well meet in my office. So, Mr. Hamilton. Tell me what's on your mind."

Alexander followed Mr. Hancock into the room that must have been his office. He was careful to close the door behind him. "I'm…in a bit of trouble, sir."

"Trouble?" Mr. Hancock's eyes narrowed. "I fail to understand how I am involved with any trouble that you might be in."

"You…aren't." Alexander said lamely. "I am asking for your help. It will be entirely to your detriment, and I stand to be the only man to benefit from your assistance. However, I feel that you are my only option, as -"

"What are you asking of me?" Mr. Hancock cut him off sharply.

"I've been abducted," Alexander explained with some reluctance. He didn't look at Mr. Hancock as he spoke. "More or less. French bandits intercepted our carriage - you were there for that part. They took me hostage, and, as I am not wealthy enough to pay for my own release, I was brought to court to curry the favor of the queen in the hopes of gaining wealth and influence for the same bandits. You are my only hope for escape at this point. If I try to flee on my own, I will almost certainly be killed."

Mr. Hancock looked at Alexander long and hard. "What do you expect me to do for you, Mr. Hamilton?"

Alexander smiled, somewhat abashed. "I'm not sure that I know, sir."

Mr. Hancock sat down in his chair, pausing for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I think I know how we might solve this."

* * *

"No," Mr. Jefferson's opinion of Alexander did not seem to improve when Mr. Hancock called upon him and Mr. Franklin to assist Alexander in fleeing France and his captors. "Congress would never approve."

Mr. Hancock ignored him. He turned to Mr. Franklin, his expression severe. "Benjamin?"

"I like it," Mr. Franklin surprised Alexander. He looked at Alexander like he was an interesting challenge - it was infinitely better than the dispassionate look he'd been casting just an hour before. "If we get caught, we could claim that we were saving him from bandits looking to take advantage of the political climate. Before we got him out of the country, we could use him as a bargaining chip with Marie Antoinette. He said that he was close with her."

"Wait." Alexander protested, his eyebrows furrowing. He was trying to get out of being used to sway French politics. He just wanted to get to England, where he could rescue John. "No…I need to leave France. I need to go to England. That's the whole point."

Mr. Franklin waved him off, turning to look at Mr. Hancock. "We'll have to explain his absence somehow. If we were to say that he was coming to America to work with Congress, he may be able to sway the Queen into talking to her husband about a loan."

"Mr. Jefferson, would a loan convince you to assist us?" Mr. Hancock asked impatiently. "Neither Mr. Franklin nor I have the connections needed to get Mr. Hamilton to England."

"I still don't understand why Mr. Hamilton needs to go to England." Mr. Jefferson folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know of any operations the General is running that involve sending an officer to England. We are not brokering a peace."

"I already told you - I can't tell you." Alexander gritted his teeth. He did not like being questioned about his motives. "Congress does not need to know everything that the General is doing."

"Ah, but that is where you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Jefferson practically bared his teeth. "We pay his salary. He answers to Congress."

"Are you going to help me, or aren't you?" Alexander was growing impatient with Mr. Jefferson.

"I am not going to help you desert the militia and bring secrets to England, no." Mr. Jefferson said coolly.

"I'm not deserting!" Alexander exclaimed indignantly. "And I'm certainly not bringing any secrets to England!"

"Then what is it that you're doing?" Mr. Jefferson needled.

"I'm going to get my friend out of the Tower!" In a fit of rage, the truth spilled out. Alexander's face reddened as he realized what he had done.

"Well, Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Jefferson's cool attitude thawed into a coy smile. "That, I can help you with."

* * *

"And you're sure that this is going to work?" Alexander asked Mr. Hancock dubiously, looking down at the ridiculous costume that the three men had pulled together for both him and Mr. Jefferson's daughter, Polly. The poor girl had been roused from her sleep to assist with the mission and looked rather upset with her father.

"No," Mr. Hancock was not the reassuring type. "Now, Polly, these men are going to try to take you, do you understand? It is important that you let them see that you are not Mr. Hamilton the moment that they catch you."

"Papa, why are you letting these men do this?" Polly looked at Mr. Jefferson irritably. She was wearing Alexander's clothes, which were just about her size. Alexander pretended not to be offended by that. It was obvious that Polly was equally offended.

Mr. Jefferson shrugged, leaning up against the doorway and watching the proceedings with a bored expression. "You have burned the last twenty letters that I have received to punish me for bringing you to this country."

"Burning letters and risking my life are not the same thing, Papa!" Alexander hated to admit it, but he agreed with the girl.

"Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Hancock drew Alexander's attention away from the moral dilemma at hand. "Though it will be tempting, you may not take a horse with you. Doing so would risk being caught, or at the very least, being shot at. Mr. Jefferson will guide you through the forest behind the estate. At the edge of the estate lies a river just wide enough to put sensible distance between you and the assailants. From there, you may take a horse and meet Mr. Jefferson's connection to England. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Jefferson, do you have the letter of introduction for me?" Alexander turned to look at Mr. Jefferson reluctantly. Mr. Jefferson produced the letter. Alexander stuffed it into his pocket, avoiding eye contact with Polly.

"Polly." Mr. Jefferson nodded towards the front door, where Sophie and her brothers were undoubtedly skulking around, waiting for Alexander. Polly glowered as she put on Alexander's tricorn. It sunk down over her eyes. Alexander was startled to realize that she did look a bit like him when her face was shadowed over.

"I'll take her," Mr. Hancock placed his hand on Polly's back, guiding her towards the front door. "Mr. Jefferson, if you could escort Mr. Hamilton."

Mr. Jefferson nodded, guiding Alexander towards the dining room window, where they would make their daring escape. As they neared the window, Mr. Jefferson paused. He looked back at Mr. Hancock hesitantly. "See to it that she's safe, will you?"

Mr. Hancock simply nodded. He wasn't one for emotional displays.

"Go." Mr. Jefferson urged Alexander out the window as Mr. Hancock opened the door for Polly. Alexander did not hesitate - he leapt out the window. As Mr. Jefferson climbed out of the window in a much more dignified manner, Alexander looked around for any of Sophie's goonies. He spotted one straight off the bat. The disguise must have worked, however, as he took no notice of Alexander and Mr. Jefferson. He merely circled the mansion towards Polly.

Mr. Jefferson did not waste any time. He led Alexander straight into the woods. They walked for what felt like hours in total silence. Mr. Jefferson seemed to know where he was going. Alexander didn't know what to say to a man who risked his daughter's life to help him.

Finally, they arrived at a riverbank. Tied to the bank was a small boat with a set of oars lain across. Alexander assumed that this was what he would be taking to cross the river.

"Off you go." Mr. Jefferson gestured towards the boat before turning on his heel and walking back in the direction from whence they came. "I must see to my daughter."

Alexander swallowed hard, turning and nodding to look at the boat grimly. It hardly looked like it could safely carry him across a small pond, let alone a wide river. Still, he climbed into the boat, settled back against the benches, dangled his foot out of the boat and kicked himself away from the shore.

As he neared the middle of the river, a bullet whizzed by his ear. It must have belonged to Sophie and her men. Alexander looked around for the source, but could not find it. He rowed faster, not daring to think about what fate Mr. Jefferson might have met in the woods he had left behind.

Once he reached the other side, Alexander ran at full speed towards a horse left in a yard of a little cottage. A woman was tending a garden outside of the cottage, surrounded by a litter of small children. There was not a man in sight.

"Excuse me, miss." Alexander ran right past the woman towards the horse, his face red. "I need your horse."

"Pardon?" The woman did not seem to speak English.

" _Your horse_ ," Alexander tried again in French. " _I must take it. It is a matter of life or death_."

" _Certainly not_!" The woman disapproved. " _My husband uses that horse for his job. If you take it from us, we will starve_."

Alexander could hear guns and shouting in the background. He climbed the fence and grabbed the horse by its reins. " _I'm sorry. I will die if I do not get your horse. Speak to Mr. Jefferson about a new one. He will give you his_."

"Jefferson?" The woman repeated suspiciously.

" _Oi_." Alexander hopped up on the horse, jumping it over the fence.

" _No_!" The woman was not satisfied with the promise of a new horse. She leapt in front of Alexander and the horse he was riding. The horse reared. Alexander narrowly avoided falling off. " _You will not take this horse! I will shoot you if I must!_ "

She didn't have a gun. Alexander hated to steal, but these were exceptional circumstances. He navigated the horse around the woman with an apologetic look. The woman did not seem to care about his unspoken apology. She jabbed at him with one of her gardening tools as he galloped by. It left a massive gash in his bicep that would need to be looked at once he made it to safely.

"Ah," Alexander winced as he struggled to hold the reins of the horse with his now-wounded arm. He looked down at it guiltily before focusing on navigating the horse. He didn't know exactly where Mr. Jefferson's connections were, but he was sure that he would know it when he saw it.

As blood began to pour from his bicep at a frightening rate, he spurred on the horse. If he was going to survive to sundown, he would need to find his next connection within the hour.

* * *

John remained in the hospital for days as he recovered from his injuries. Eddy visited him quite often, as did Charlie who continued to badger him about Washington's plans. Reggie made one appearance, and that guy Eddy had dismissed the other day, Thomas, came with him.

"So you're really an American, an aide to the famous general?" Thomas asked him during the visit.

John nodded, turning to look at him. It was clear Thomas was a bit of a rookie, maybe not even a proper soldier. He looked young, maybe in his mid-teens, with red hair neatly tied back in a ponytail with a bow. He wore a red coat but it was slightly too big on him.

"I've heard so much about him, so it's really kinda awesome to meet you," Thomas said excitedly.

Reggie looked down at him disapprovingly for his excitement at meeting the enemy. Thomas saw his expression and shrunk back a bit, looking down at John in his hospital bed.

"Aw, don't let ol Reggie keep you from dowsing me in praise, Thommy," John teased with a smirk.

"I will do what I please with my son, thank you." Reggie turned and began to leave. "Let's go, Thomas."

Thomas didn't move.

"Ugh, come on." Reggie grabbed his arm and started to pull him out of the room.

"I'll come back later," Thomas mouthed to John silently so Reggie couldn't see.

He did, in fact, come by later on his own. The doctor had let him speak to John for ten minutes. "I don't want your father to get me court-martialed," he had said.

Thomas nodded before sitting next to the bed and looking at John, asking, "So what's it like, being an aide-de-campe to such a famous general?" His accent came through as...not British. It sounded more American southern, but not so southern as John's.

"Are you really Reggie's son?" John countered curiously.

"Adopted son," Thomas corrected, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"Okay, makes sense, since you don't look anything alike and you speaks like you're American…"

"A colonist," Thomas corrected.

"We all were once a colonist. But we're not anymore."

Thomas sighed, then glanced off like he was in dream land. "I used to hear stories about General Washington, his bravery and his talent. I heard them from those patriots that cried out in the town square...I spent most of my childhood in Virginia, if you didn't guess."

"So how'd you end up here?"

This was when Thomas glanced down and started to tear up a bit. "My mother was a loyalist and my father was a patriot...when the American army came through our town my father invited some of them to stay...but then the British army arrived soon after and ambushed us. Both my parents were killed…" He wiped his eyes. "I was found by Reginald and he brought me with him here, knowing my mother had been of the Loyalist cause. He's been like a father to me ever since...but also not. He brought me here when he came back."

John felt sympathy for the boy.

"I'm more aligned with my late mother's belief in the crown, but I can't help but fantasize sometimes about meeting the great General Washington…" Thomas continued.

"He's not always in the greatest moods, granted, but I'd be a traitor to say he isn't great," John replied with a light chuckle.

"Can you tell me more about him? I want to know if those people were exaggerating," Thomas asked.

"Sure...wait." John thought about it, and narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "Is this a trick? A way to get me to spill our secrets?"

"What?" Thomas looked confused and a bit hurt.

"Who put you up to it? Charlie? Reggie? Levi?"

"I-I only know a few people here…" Thomas had started tearing up a bit.

John looked at him analytically.

Thomas wiped his eyes and stood up. "Reggie was right. American soldiers are rude and untrustworthy." He said this brashly, he wasn't thinking straight.

"Thomas, you're American-"

"No I'm not! Not anymore. I can't be." Thomas left the hospital and slammed the door.

John leaned back in his bed and sighed. Poor kid.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Sir," Alexander was hailed down in a little clearing with an expansive house and a small herd of deer walking about a little over an hour after he had rode from the farm with the violent woman. The man who was waving his hand was well-dressed and appeared to be a gentleman. "Are you Mr. Jefferson's man?"

Alexander smiled gratefully. Yes, this was the man that he had been looking for.

"Yes, sir. I -" Alexander moved to dismount the horse.

He blacked out immediately and fell right off the horse.

"Ugh," Alexander sat up, rubbing his head.

"There you are, boy." Mr. Jefferson's connection smiled down at Alexander in amusement as Alexander started to look around him. There wasn't much but clear skies and brackish water. They were on a ship, Alexander realized dimly. "We thought you were a goner."

"Not quite." Alexander tried to quirk as a smile as he staggered to his feet. "I apologize for my behavior. I encountered some violence on my journey, and -"

"I see that," The man chuckled, nodding down at Alexander's now-bandaged bicep. "Whoever it was, it looks like he got you pretty good."

"Yeah." Alexander rubbed at the bandage absent-mindedly. "So, er, are we…"

"Going straight for Britain, yes." The man smiled an awful lot. Alexander was not used to such cheerfulness. "William Bainbridge. Pleasure to meet you."

"Alexander Hamilton," Alexander looked around inquisitively. "How long do you think it'll take for us to reach England?"

"I'd say two weeks," Captain Bainbridge responded. "You might as well make yourself. According to Mr. Jefferson's letter, you were of great use to Mr. Hancock when you were aboard his vessel. I hope that you will be of such use to me, as well."

"Yes, sir." Alexander murmured, looking around ship curiously. "I would be glad to be of service."

"Very good." Captain Bainbridge approved. "In the meantime, perhaps you ought to get some rest. You were out for quite a time."

Alexander smiled at him gratefully. "Yes, sir."

* * *

"We're taking on water!" Alexander awoke to the sound of frantic sailors.

He had been aboard Captain Bainbridge's ship for a week and a half now. He was expecting to reach England any day now. It seemed that this expectation was not destined to be met, as he climbed out of his bunk and stepped into a few inches of water.

"Captain?" He charged up the steps to the main deck, looking around for Captain Bainbridge. "What's going on?"

"Hamilton!" Captain Bainbridge looked at Alexander with a panicked expression. "We got too close to the shore - we hit some rocks. We are going down, boy."

"What?" Alexander looked around in panic. "What should I do? Is there a way to patch the bottom of the boat to keep it afloat? How close are we to shore? Do you think that we can make it to a nearby island for a repair?"

Captain Bainbridge looked at Alexander oddly. "There is important patching equipment in the dingy. Could you get it for me?"

"Yes, sir." Alexander hurried over to the dingy, not thinking anything of the fact that Captain Bainbridge was following him.

He carefully crossed the gap between the ship and the dingy, glancing warily at the ropes holding the dingy above water. When he tumbled into the wooden dingy, he was surprised to see that there was nothing in it at all. He turned to look at Captain Bainbridge questioningly. Captain Bainbridge removed his sword grimly. Before Alexander could call out to him, to demand that he stop, Captain Bainbridge cut the ropes holding the dingy against the ship, sending it and Alexander into the churning waters below.

Alexander spluttered and choked as he was drenched in the frigid water knocked on board by the sheer force of his drop. He looked up at the ship that he had been forcibly removed from, seeing frantic crewmen scrambling. A few abandoned ship, jumping into the waters around him. One of the deserters noticed Alexander's dingy and tried to swim against the currents towards him.

"Help me!" The man screamed, his voice gurgling as water entered his lungs. He struggled to tread water, his lips already starting to turn that telling shade of blue. Alexander looked away, his stomach wrenching. "Please, help me!"

"Captain Bainbridge!" Alexander tried to get the Captain to return to the edge of the ship. "Captain Bainbridge!"

But it was too late. The ship creaked for a few more seconds before a loud groan and a short snap filled the air. The ship dropped into the sea within a matter of minutes, dragging the crewmen down with it. Alexander attempted to row towards the wreckage, hoping to save a few lives here and there, but as the ship plummeted, it created a tide that was too strong to fight against. Before long, Alexander was miles from where the ship sank. All of the men he had gotten to know during the journey were out of sight. He did not allow himself to consider what became of them. Instead, he focused on what was to become of him. He was stranded on a dingy in the middle of the ocean. He did not know where the nearest shore was, nor did he know what country was nearest. He had no food. He had no water. His clothes were damp, but the air was cold.

It was an all-around bad situation.

Alexander pulled the oars back into the dingy and settled against the bench. He doubted very much that he would ever make it to England.

* * *

They found him four days later, starved and on the cusp of insanity. He'd spent the past three days drinking salt water and screaming out for John despite the futility of it all. They gave him food, water, warm clothes, and a place to sleep. He hadn't slept soundly in the four days that he had spent on the water. They brought him to land.

It took him a week to fully recover. When he did, a man in a red coat entered the room he'd been given.

"How are you feeling today, sir?" The man asked, standing tall with his hands behind his back. He was a military man. A military man wearing a red coat. Alexander may have felt a bit hazy, but he was intelligible enough to recognize this.

"Good." He managed. "Thank you for the care that you have provided me. I'm not sure that I am capable of rewarding you for such an act of kindness."

"You could reward us plenty by giving us your name, sir." The man's expression remained stoic. "As well as telling us what it was that you were doing out at sea."

"Oh, I, uh…" Alexander hesitated. "My name is James."

"James?" The man echoed, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "James what?"

"James Quarterfield." Alexander lied, using the last name of one of the deceased soldiers from General Washington's forces. "Who are you?"

"Captain Lewis." The man, Captain Lewis, looked down at Alexander dismally. "What is your career, Mister Quarterfield? I understand that you are not a military man."

"Oh, uh, no, I'm a…" Alexander looked around the room for some clue as to what he might be. "I'm a poet."

"A poet?" Captain Lewis' mouth curved into a sneer. "Anything that I would have read?"

"Probably not. I'm not very good." Alexander remarked hastily.

"Right," It was obvious that Captain Lewis did not believe Alexander. That was potentially dangerous for Alexander.

"Pardon me, but could you tell me where we are?" Alexander tried to distract Captain Lewis. "I would like to let my family know that I am safe, if at all possible."

Captain Lewis looked Alexander over humorlessly. "London. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Quarterfield. I'll look into letting your family know that we have found you and that you are safe. Remind me, where is it that your family resides?"

Alexander's eyes widened. "Oh, uh…Essex. They're in a small town. It would be simpler for me to deliver the message to myself."

"Nonsense." Captain Lewis waved off Alexander's suggestion. "You're still recovering. I will have my men search for the Quarterfields in Essex. We have a population index. We should find your address in next to no time at all."

"Wonderful." Alexander smiled weakly.

Captain Lewis nodded and bowed before leaving the room. The moment that the door clicked close behind him, Alexander staggered to his feet. His limbs trembled - they still had not forgiven him for the four days that he spent on the dingy - but he determinedly made his way over to the window in the room. It wasn't very large, but it was just large enough. He forced the window open and squeezed himself through the opening that he had created. It turned out that he was on the second floor of whatever building that he was in - the ground looked so far down - but if he stayed, Captain Lewis would find out that he had lied about his identity. If the British officer found out that he was a rebel, well, he would die. Jumping down from the second floor was a safer bet.

Without another thought, Alexander allowed himself to flop out of the window. He hit the ground with a thud and a crack. The wind was knocked out of him - his chest ached. It was entirely possible that he had broken at least one of his ribs…maybe his wrist, too. Still, if he lingered, he would die.

He crept towards the street on the other side of the building. From the street, he could see a looming presence over London: the Tower. It appeared to be miles away, but Alexander needed to put some distance between himself and Captain Lewis, anyway.

It took half the day, but eventually, Alexander was standing right outside of the Tower. He looked up at it, surprised to find that tears were pricking at his eyes. After all that he had been through, he was finally here. He was this close to John.

And he had no idea how to get a single step closer.

For the first time since he had started this journey, he did not know what to do next.

* * *

Soon John was back in his good old cell. No one really visited him for some time until Reggie came by to scold him like he was a child who'd bullied another. "You are disgraceful, Laurens. Whatever you said to my son, now he won't talk to me at all. He's been shutting himself in his chamber and I'm really starting to worry-" he looked fearful.

"I didn't say anything but what I felt was correct," John replied simply. "He's a kid, he'll cool off."

"But he's not a kid. Not anymore. He's nearly a man, and he needs to know his place in this world and in this war-"

"He's an American whose family was taken from him by 'this war'. He's a victim of the conflict. And you don't think he knows that?" John felt oddly protective of the teen and he didn't quite know why. Perhaps a feeling of kinship.

"He's got family. He has me."

"You're not his family, you're a soldier who took him from his home and thinks you can form him into something he's not."

"He wants to be a soldier. You don't understand everything." Reggie crossed his arms.

"Maybe, but he doesn't dream about meeting your king…even if he believes in the crown," John pointed out. "Plus, would he really want to be part of the very thing that killed his parents?"

"Uh-grrrrr." Reggie gritted his teeth. "I do not like you."

"Of course you don't. I punched you in the face once and gave you a black eye. Hard to get on good terms after that."

Reggie stormed away from the cell.

* * *

Meanwhile there was a knock on Thomas' door. "What is it?" he asked angstily, putting his face in his pillow.

Eddy creaked open the door. "Hey, Thom."

Thomas looked and saw it was Eddy. "Did Reginald send you?" he asked bitterly.

"No, but he told me you haven't been talking...wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know who I am anymore…" Thomas put his face back in his pillow. His tone had softened.

"Who do you want to be?"

"I don't know that either…"

* * *

"Thomas is having an existential crisis," Eddy told Reggie later.

"Great...ugh, why do I even bother with him?" Reggie put his head down. "Shoulda just left him for the rebel scum to deal with…"

The two brothers talked for a little while longer.

* * *

Thomas, who'd snuck out of his room to get something to eat, heard this exchange. His eyes tearing up, he ran in the other direction. He didn't go to his room,though. He went into the Tower, and found John's cell.

"This is a surprise, Thommy," John commented as he looked at the boy from the floor of his cell. He'd been drawing.

Thomas was breathing heavily from the running.

"I thought you hated me," John continued, raising an eyebrow at him.

"...I don't," Thomas promised. "...I'm just really confused right now." He sighed.

"Kid, go back home," one of the guards said.

Thomas looked at the guard. "I can't. I don't have one." He glanced at John one more time before turning and leaving.

* * *

Eddy visited John a few days later. "How've you been since the hospital?" he asked.

"Just grand," John replied. He looked not grand. Sickly even.

"Are you okay? You look a bit pale…"

John coughed. "I'm fine."

"Alright, if you're sure...I can get Sherwood if you need," Eddy offered.

"I said I'm fine," John tried to convince him before coughing again and wiping his hand on his pants. A dark stain was now present.

"You're going to the doctor. Now."

John was sick for about a week. Eventually it passed but it left him a bit weak still and Eddy was worried.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Alexander paced the length of the Tower, looking for possible points of entry. Weak areas. Anywhere that he could fit in. Eventually, he found one towards the back of the tower. Bricks had eroded to form a sort of foot-hole that would allow him to hoist himself through a low-level window. There was no telling what he would stumble upon when he got through the window, but that was another problem for another time. With little fanfare, he set to work. He ignored the searing pain in his wrist and ribs as he climbed towards the window and slid his body through the sill.

It was dark. It was so dark. It looked like he was in a hallway, but it was hard to tell for sure. Alexander blinked a few times, struggling to adjust his eyes to the lack of lighting. He looked around for any guards that might be walking around before starting down the hallway. He needed to find where John was kept before anyone knew that he was here.

Eddy walked down the hall that intersected the one Alexander was in, moving away from John's cell, worry written across his face. "He's gonna be fine...they wouldn't let him die…" he muttered nervously to himself, trying to bring himself some comfort. He wasn't sure why he cared so much about John's health. He just did. His voice echoed it the hall and carried through the air.

John was being checked over by the doctor. Just in case. His complexion and his mood had worsened since he'd been ill. He felt depressed and weak, and longed to not be by himself in this. He longed for comfort, and didn't care at this point who provided it.

"You're good to go, John," Sherwood declared finally.

John stood up. "Thanks, Trenty…"

"Um, it's Doctor, thank you," Sherwood corrected.

"Awwwwwwwww, that's boring..." John pouted. "Humor me, I'm ill."

He was escorted back to his cell by two unfamiliar guards. He sat on the floor of the cell, his hair a mess in his face and his skin sallow and devoid of any lively glow, and started to wonder what Alex was doing right now. Maybe he was fighting in a battle with their comrades, maybe he was working in the tent they used to share back at camp, who knew. He put his head down between his knees as he thought.

* * *

Alexander continued down the hall, craning his neck to get a better look at the men who occupied each cell.

There weren't many cells. John was in the one at the end.

Alexander reached an intersection between hallways. At the end of it, he could see a tuft of blond hair against cell walls. John's blond hair. Alexander grinned, taking a few steps forward. As he moved closer, however, he noticed that he was not alone in this hallway.

There was a guard.

Eddy walked through his hallway to the intersection. He saw an outline of a person in the darkened hall across. "Who's there?" he asked quietly but firmly.

Alexander squeezed his eyes closed. So close.

"Uh...no one?" He ventured.

Eddy didn't recognize the voice. "Come out of the shadows or I'll have to assume you're trying to break in and pull out my gun." He raised an eyebrow.

"Kind of a wild assumption to jump to, no?" Alexander hoped that cracking jokes would help him put Eddy at ease. "I'm just here to see John...er...Mr. Laurens. I'm the...uh...the new guy. I'm supposed to interview him to see what George Washington is doing across the sea

Eddy had never heard about a new interrogative officer. "You're here to see John? I'm sorry, but it's late if you couldn't tell, and he's not been well." There was slight worry in his voice mentioning John's illness.

"What's wrong with him?" Alexander betrayed his own lie; it was a knee-jerk reaction that he could not manage. He stormed out of the shadows towards John's cell. "What's the matter with him? John? Are you okay?"

John heard Alex's voice…wait, what?! His head shot up and he looked out the cell door. "Alex?!" he croaked. His throat was apparently dry.

Once Alexander had emerged, Eddy recognized him from John's drawing. He stopped him before he could get too close to John's cell. "You're Alexander," he said, not in an accusing manner. He also kept his tone down; John did have guards, after all.

"Yeah," Alexander afforded Eddy a disinterested look. Now that his identity was out in the open, there was no reason to keep up the act. He didn't care about Eddy at all. He looked over the guard's shoulder at John. "John, are you okay? Have they...are they...treating you okay?"

"Please come to the door, I'm not keen on moving right now…" John replied in his dry voice. "I'm fine. And Eddy, please make sure he's not shot."

Eddy understood these two were close friends, though he didn't know the very deep connection they shared. He nodded in response. "Alright, John."

Alexander didn't quite like that John's guard was so familiar with him. He looked Eddy over dispassionately before pushing past him to get to John's cell. He hadn't approved of being blocked from it in the first place.

"John." He knelt down by the cell door, looking John over with great concern. "Are you okay? We've got to get you out of here, buddy."

"I'm okay…" His physical appearance claimed otherwise, but John was too happy to see Alex again to bring that into account. "I can't believe you're here…"

"Why not? It's not that far away," Alexander tried to smile playfully. It wasn't very convincing. It was obvious that John was not in good shape. Alexander looked around for an opportunity to get John out of the cell. "We missed you back home."

"...it felt far away…" John was starting to tear up a bit. Oh, how he wished those bars weren't between them so they could embrace each other! This felt wrong, their reunion being between a door that couldn't be opened.

"I didn't feel a minute of it." Alexander lied, still working at his smile. He ignored his aching wrist and ribs, as well as the gardening-tool wound that had not yet healed properly. "So, what's the deal here? It seems like you've got some pull with that guard over there." He dropped his voice as he nodded back to Eddy. He was hoping that the guard could be convinced to let John go.

"Oh yeah, Eddy and I go way back to my time on the boat here," John explained with a nod. "Be glad you didn't get caught by his brother."

"Hm." Alexander wasn't very impressed by Eddy or the idea of his brother. "Think he could get you out of here? If we leave now, we might be able to get out of this country before they realize that you're gone."

"...hm," John thought for a moment. "Maybe."

Eddy stood by, not able to hear their conversation.

"Hey, Red." Alexander turned to look at Eddy. He didn't afford the man much respect. He didn't think that redcoats deserved much respect. "Think we could unlock the door, here?"

"Um, if you address me that way I won't," Eddy replied, crossing his arms. He would not take that kind of treatment. At least John had given him a nickname that was still his name.

"I'm sorry - your royal highness, your majestic guard...would you please unlock this door?" Alexander had been through hell to get this far. He would not be thwarted by a guard with a power complex.

He didn't get much respect from people around, they treated him like a rookie. It was the least he could get from a guy he'd only seen in a drawing.

"...fine." Eddy went into his pocket and looked for the key.

Reggie was doing a quick sweep of the halls. The whole struggle he'd been having with Thomas was fresh in his mind, and it uneased him.

Alexander let out an annoyed huff, standing up and taking a step away from the cell door to let Eddy unlock it. He folded his arms across his chest as he waited, mostly so that he would not grab John the moment that he was free. He still had to act like a gentleman. He had to act like a gentleman until they were finally alone.

He was tired of being a gentleman.

Reggie made it to the cell block. "Edward, what the devil are you doing!?" he exclaimed/asked his brother as he saw him about to put the key in the lock.

Eddy jumped and dropped the key. "I swear, it's not what you think-"

"Reggie! So… wonderful for you to join us," John said from his cell, hearing the newest voice in the hall. Based on his tone, he was not excited for Reggie to be there.

Alexander turned to look at the newest guard. His fingernails dug into his arms. Yet another person trying to stand in his way. He was growing impatient with all of the barriers being placed between him and John.

"Open the door." He commanded Eddy through gritted teeth.

"Who is this man and why is he giving you orders, Edward?" Reggie asked, frowning. "If you open that door you'll be committing an act of treason."

Eddy didn't know what to do.

"You don't want to stand between me and that door," Alexander warned both of them, his voice coming out as something resembling a snarl. "I have done more than I would care to do to get to this door. I won't be stopped just outside of it. So I'll ask you again - open the door."

"Edward, don't listen to this-I don't know what you are, but you disgust me," Reggie said, glaring at Alexander and looking expectantly at his brother.

Eddy's key was on the floor. He glanced down at it.

Alexander saw Eddy looking down at the key and took advantage of his moment's hesitation. He lunged at the guard, grabbing his gun from him and knocking him to the ground with the key. He took turns pointing the gun at Eddy and Reggie.

"I won't ask again." He told them both firmly.

Eddy hit the ground. His nose was now bleeding, and he looked frightened as the gun was pointed at him.

Reggie pulled his own gun and pointed it at Alexander in return. "I don't believe we are under your command. You, scum, are an intruder. Put down your gun."

Alexander's finger twitched towards the trigger, focusing the gun towards Reggie. "That is just not going to happen. I have come here to return Mr. Laurens to his home. I will not allow you to get in my way."

Eddy began to slowly stand.

"Laurens is not leaving that cell," Reggie promised, also itching to pull the trigger. "He is our prisoner and he will remain our prisoner."

"This is the last chance I'm going to give," Alexander warned, his eyes glinting. "Let him go."

"No," Reggie replied, a growl in his voice. "He gave himself up. He's ours now. Not yours."

Again came a knee-jerk reaction. John Laurens did not belong to anyone - least of all this terrible, terrible redcoat. Alexander's finger pressed down on the trigger of the gun. The moment he saw a red spot appear on the chest of Reggie's shirt, he knew that he hit his mark. He then turned to Eddy, his expression murderous.

Reggie fell to the ground, his gun skidding across the floor as it flew out of his hand. He was dead within a few minutes, blood staining his red coat maroon and his white shirt red. His eyes were wide open.

Eddy registered what just happened. Before he could even think he ran, grabbed his fallen brother's gun, and pointed it straight at Alexander. His expression had turned from frightened to vengeful. There were tears in his eyes. "You...you killed Reggie…you killed my brother…" His mouth quivered. He was trying hard not to burst out in mournful tears. He didn't dare look down at the lifeless body at his feet.

"You're next if you don't open that door." Alexander did not lower the gun.

Eddy's hand with the gun shook.

"Eddy, just...open the door…" John finally spoke up. His voice was more a whisper. It was leaving him for the moment.

"Listen to him." Alexander advised, glancing over at John briefly. "This does not have to end badly for you. It does not have to end badly for any of us. Just open that door."

Eddy remembered Reggie's earlier words. "Y-you open it." He kicked the key to Alexander's feet and lowered his gun. "I'm not a traitor." He turned, wiping his eyes, and started to run in the other direction.

Alexander made sure that Eddy was far enough away that he would not be able to shoot him fatally before leaning down to pick up the key. He inched towards John's cell, still not taking his eyes off of Eddy's disappearing figure.

Eddy soon vanished, turning into a hallway.

John watched Alex come closer. Almost there…

As soon as Eddy vanished, Alexander whipped around and jammed the key into the lock, turning it despite the pain it brought to his injured wrist. He threw the door open, looking over his shoulder frantically.

"Let's go."

John weakly managed to stand up. He nodded. His heart was pounding; finally, there was no more door between them.

Alexander placed his hand on John's back, steering him towards the window that he'd crawled through earlier. It would not be an easy escape on the body - he'd probably break another rib on his way down - but it was their only option. He looked over his shoulder again as they reached the window. Still clear.

"You first," He told John, gesturing towards the window. "If I don't make it out, head for the docks. You'll be able to hitch a ride with a privateer; they're all over the place. Hurry."

"You'd better make it out," John replied in his hoarse voice. He approached the window and crawled through, his feet scrambling for a hold.

"I'll do my best," Alexander promised, backing up to cover John as he made his escape.

John took a deep breath, glancing down at the ground below him, and let go of the ledge. He landed and immediately winced, but he was alright. He looked back up at the window.

Alexander heard John hit the ground and backed himself onto the window ledge. He threw a glance over his shoulder, hopefully looking for some smaller incremental drop that would lessen his fall. There was none. Even the foothold that had allowed him to reach the window in the first place was out of reach. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall out of the window.

He hit the ground, which was blessedly softer than the one outside of the government building he'd been in earlier was. He looked at John, his mouth curving into a smile.

There were no bars between them now.

John smiled back. "...let's get out of this country," he said with a hand outstretched to Alex.

Alexander took his hand, savoring the warmth of it. He gave it a gentle squeeze before letting his hand fall to his side without John's in it any longer. Without another moment of hesitation, he started for the direction of the dock.

John followed Alex to the dock. He was lagging a bit due to his already weak legs and the fact he hadn't gotten much of any workout in his time in prison.

Alexander noticed John's slower pace and slowed his own. He knew that John must have experienced certain unpleasantries within the confines of the Tower, but chose not to ask about them until he was far enough away from the Tower that he could not turn around and kill every man who was involved in John's incarceration.

Instead, he focused on the way that John put one foot in front of the other. He made sure that John did not stumble. He watched the way that John's knees wobbled. He wanted so badly to carry the poor man to the ship, but he could not. Not without being arrested for a wholly different crime than patriotism to the colonies. He settled for preparing himself to catch John, should he fall.

As they neared the dock, Alexander scanned the row of ships. Ideally, they would find one that was unattended. He would settle for a profiteer who would accept the gun he'd stolen from the Tower as payment for their passage. He looked to John in askance, hoping that John trusted him enough to secure their passage home.

John looked back at him, his gaze tired but hopeful, and he smiled just a bit. Enough to make it clear that Alex had his faith.

Alexander led them through the docks, trying not to draw anyone's attention. As they walked, Alexander noticed a young man walking away from a small ship with a self-satisfied smile. He looked at the ship - it was completely empty. He turned to smile at John, reaching for his hand again. On the bustling dock, no one would notice if Alexander took John's hand. Nobody at all would notice if Alexander lured him to the empty ship and happened to move around a few ropes in the process. Nobody would care if the ship started moving away from the shore and Alexander was holding John's hand all the while.

John held tight to Alexander's hand as they moved to the boat and out to sea. He was afraid if he let go Alex would be gone away again, and he'd be found once more by the redcoats and returned to the Tower. This was silly, of course, but being stuck in prison so far away from Alex made him realize just how important he was to him.

Alexander led John to the boat, tossing off ropes as they moved. He lifted the sails, just as Mr. Hancock had taught him to do what seemed like a lifetime ago. He felt John's eyes on him and wasn't too surprised to find that he enjoyed it immensely. He liked showing off this new, adventurous side of himself. He liked playing the hero.

As the ship broke free of the dock, Alexander saw a few officers pushing through the bustling crowd, attempting to locate the escaped prisoner and the rogue who had helped set him free. Without meaning to, he let out a loud laugh. He felt so giddy - they were free and there wasn't a thing that any of them could do about it anymore. After so many people had done everything in their power to make sure neither of the men were ever free again, they had made it.

They were free.


End file.
